


The Dreamscape

by Couyfish, Threshie



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, C-Virus, Chrisker, Domestic Fluff, Double Lives, Dream World, Dubious Science, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Guilt, Hurt Chris, Hurt/Comfort, Infected Piers, Lickers, M/M, Multi, Nivanshake, OT3, Piers Nivans Lives, Pining, Polyamory, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Uroboros Wesker, Pregnant Sherry Birkin, Progenitor virus, Regenerators, Sarcasm, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, Zombies, but also lots of blood and zombies and scrabbling for survival, long fic, slight AU, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2018-10-23 20:33:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 238,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Couyfish/pseuds/Couyfish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: RE6 ends on an apocalyptic note, and Chris Redfield leads a small group of survivors in the aftermath. Who should join them but Wesker, somehow alive again and as infatuated with Chris as ever. Chris would have to be losing his mind to love his old rival. Apparently he’s halfway there, though, because whenever he sleeps he’s leading a double life — one without zombies where he and Wesker are married.





	1. Goodbye, Chris

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story co-written by BeingCouy and Threshie, several years in the making. I’ll warn you now that it’s extremely long, and that we have not finished it yet. There’s quite a bit of story, though, and rather than let it collect dust on our hard drives, we decided to post it.

_A few months after the events of RE6, an apocalyptic level of bombings and viral outbreaks have left our cast in survival mode. Most of the government and military have taken civilians to other locations, but the people in this story decide to stick together and tough it out instead._

_Chris has picked out an underwater base that once belonged to Umbrella as the group's hideout. They went through it very thoroughly to make sure there weren't any nasty surprises waiting, and are continually looking for supplies outside in the ruined cities near them. Once the base was established, Chris sent out a call for Sheva, Helena, Jake, Sherry, Leon, and Claire, as well as others nearby that might be interested. Jake and Sherry arrive, Sherry pregnant, and then along come Leon and Claire._

_Chris is stunned when Wesker is one of the people to show up, though – somehow alive, and acting very lost and regretful of his past actions. Chris is disgusted that he managed to live through the volcano, and locks him up, which Wesker goes along with. After a couple months of this odd arrangement, the truth comes out — Wesker kisses Chris and confesses that he loves him. Chris is not sure what to do with that, so he doesn’t say anything. Nobody else was there at the time, so only he knows Wesker's real motivation in all of this._

_Our story starts the next morning…_  


* * *

  
Chris was awakened by the screaming alarm above his bed, along with a very panicked voice over the intercom systems. It was Michael, the guard from Wesker's cell.

“He's gone! Everyone report in!” He stuttered, muttering to himself before it cut out. “I'm so dead...”

If he was alive to make that announcement, Chris was pretty sure Wesker didn't want Michael dead. Rolling out of bed, the brunette reached for the one piece of gear he hadn't been sleeping in — his comm headset — and shoved it on, pressing the power button. 

"Chris here. I'm on my way." 

To say he'd been expecting this was a major understatement.

“Oh thank god!” Sherry gasped on the other end of the line. “We were worried he might have gone for your room! Someone saw him heading that way! – I'll meet you there.”

"Negative — you stay clear," Chris replied immediately, frowning and doing a sweeping scan of his room. Nothing looked out of place. "No sign of him here, anyway." 

If Wesker really had decided to finally take action, the last place that Sherry needed to be was anywhere near him. 

The blond man was beyond being threatened by any gun, but Chris still drew his pistol out of habit and held it pointed to the ceiling as he stepped carefully over to the door. He paused and listened.

“I'm your best shot!” The petite blond argued loudly in his ear. “Please! I'm almost to you, stay in your room!”

"He's not going to hurt me!" Chris hissed in reply, trying to stay quiet since he hadn't yet opened the door. He cringed a second later, realizing that the whole rest of the crew might wonder WHY he'd think Wesker wouldn't harm him. 

Great. Well, he wasn't about to explain the blond's weird love confession, or the persistent requests for Chris to kill him. They could just keep wondering.

“Why else would he leave his cell?” Sherry said quickly. He could hear her footsteps down the metal base's hallway. If that was her.

The tunnel outside of his room seemed quiet otherwise.

“Sir!” Michael yelled on his com. “He's been spotted at the main gates! He's opening them!”

As soon as the guard spoke, a loud scraping sound echoed from far off. Sherry came speeding around the corner, almost toppling over when she spotted Chris.

“Chris!”

He hastily reached his arms out to catch her by the shoulders. 

"I'm okay," he said quickly. "Stay here, you'll be safe!" Turning, he started down the hallway at a dash, a hand to the headset as he went. "I'm on my way!"

“So am I!” Sherry also reported, running after Captain Redfield. “I don't get it Chris – why would Wesker try to escape now? Why even show up?”

"He's not escaping," Chris insisted. He was sure that if Wesker actually WANTED to leave, he would've done it by now. Then again...Chris wouldn't do what he wanted. Maybe he was going to leave and find a way to die.

Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. 

Somehow, though, the thought bothered Chris. He hated the little tingle at the back of his neck, and the fact that Wesker's supposed feelings for him came to mind before the fact that nobody knew of a way to actually KILL the man.

No, he couldn't allow it.

They finally reached the main gates. They were just finishing opening, massive jaws sliding back to reveal the dead city beyond. Wesker was just standing up on the door edge, back turned to them. He didn't seem to be diving out the door like Micheal had implied. 

Chris stopped his mad dash at the sight, holding out an arm to warn Sherry not to run past him, either. He frowned up at the blond man's back, holstering his gun finally.

"Wesker!" He called to the other man. "What're you doing?"

The lean blond turned around quickly, eyeing them. 

“Like I told you earlier, Chris…” He held up his arms at his sides. “I'll find a way.”

Sherry pulled her pistol and aimed it at him. 

“Get back in here, you psychopath!”

Wesker curled his lip at her and looked back to Chris. 

“Don't follow me.” With that, he turned and leaped off of the doors outside.

“No!” Sherry yelled, shoving past Chris before he could move and racing up the gate ramp.

"Sherry!" Chris dashed after her, forgetting all about Wesker in that instant. Wesker wouldn't hesitate to attack her if she attacked him — and they had no way of knowing if the blond's healing abilities extended to the child she was carrying or not. 

With his super speed, Wesker was probably already well ahead of them if he wished to be, though. Damn it...who knew what he would do if it turned out that he couldn't die?

But when he got to the top of the ramp, he spotted Sherry standing just outside – clenching her fists. Wesker was gone.

Sherry spotted a few stray zombies in the distance and came back out to the ramp. 

“He's fast,” she muttered unhappily, reaching up to grab the gate edge and pull herself back up. Seeing Chris, she stopped and shook her head sadly. “I'm sorry. I couldn't catch him.”

Chris knelt down and reached to grab her hands, helping her up. 

"He was only here because he didn't feel like leaving before," he said grimly. "It's not your fault — he could have left anytime."

Taking the offered hand up, she sighed. 

“It just doesn't make any sense to me!” She made it up onto the ledge and squeezed Chris's hands. “He said not to follow him – but we have to. We can't just let him run loose!”

"We'll never catch him just running after him," Chris sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. He looked out over the wreckage beyond the gate with a sad frown. Wesker's actions had already devastated so much of the world. How much more damage could he manage? 

“The helicopter's still in pieces.” The blond woman frowned. She knew that running after Wesker was pointless, but letting him get away seemed worse.

"I'll find him again," Chris promised her. He paused, glancing out the door one more time before stepping further inside and waving for her to follow. "I have an idea what he's doing," he added reluctantly.  


* * *

  
“What's this about Wesker?” Claire asked as she and Sherry joined the others in the coffee room. It was sort of their meeting room now. Chris's sister had been expected for a day or two, but getting anywhere was much harder now. It wasn't like one could just flag down a taxi. She spotted Chris and smiled, letting go of the arm she had had around Sherry to give her brother a big hug. 

Chris managed a smile and wrapped his arms around her. He always worried when anyone was gone for days, even if travel conditions were probably the reason. Claire could take care of herself, but there was always the chance that somehow one of them wouldn't return to the base someday.

"Don't worry about Wesker," he said a bit gruffly. "I'm glad you're back. We were getting worried." 

His sister patted his back happily. 

“I always worry when you talk about that psycho.” Claire smiled up at him. “But Sherry wouldn't tell me what this is about.” Leaning to look back at the petite blond, she raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

Sherry smiled tightly and sat down at the coffee table. 

“Hey, where's Leon?”

“Yeah.” Claire looked back at her brother with a grin. “I haven't seen him in weeks!”

"You'll have a lot to catch up about," Chris nodded, stepping closer to place a hand on Sherry's back. He'd already felt protective of the young blond before — knowing that she was pregnant only emphasized it.

Sherry glanced up at him, but remained quiet.

“Alright. Let's start with Wesker, then,” the auburn-haired woman said, sitting down across the table from Sherry. “Or are we waiting on someone?”

Chris sighed and sank down into the chair beside Sherry, leaning his elbows on the table and his head against his hands. 

"Wesker's...gone. We weren't really keeping him here — he could've left any time if he wanted."

“I thought you had him locked up!” Claire leaned forward to glare at her brother. “You said he was in a cell made for a tyrant!”

“Whoa.” Sherry reached over and patted Claire's arm. “Wesker's not a tyrant.” She sighed. “He's way stronger.”

Claire looked from her back to Chris. 

“What do you mean gone? He just broke out and LEFT? That doesn't really seem like something he'd do.”

Chris sat up, frowning and hoping the troubling memories of the night weren't too obvious by looking at his face. 

"No, it doesn't. He's been acting different," he said cryptically, lowering his hands to the table. "He didn't hurt anybody, either." 

But his sister seemed to pick up on his hesitation – squinting at him dubiously. 

“'Different?'” 

Sherry looked between them, trying to get what Claire was seeing.

Chris looked at his sister tiredly and shook his head a tiny bit. He didn't want to discuss this — especially not in front of Sherry. 

"Yeah. The way he's been talking, I don't think he's out to take over the world again like before," he said carefully.

“Uh huh.” His sister sank back in her chair, still not convinced. “I'm not sure what else he'd be doing, but fine. Whatever he's up to doesn't matter right now – we need to figure out what we're doing ABOUT it.”

Sherry nodded. 

“Right. We need to chase him down and throw him into another volcano.”

Claire glanced at her.

Chris abruptly got up from his chair, pacing toward the counter just to get some space. Not that there was much of it in their new home. He remembered his talk with Wesker again, the talk about killing him. If that didn't do it, what would?

Watching Chris pace, Sherry shrugged. 

“It worked for awhile last time. Maybe we could figure out how to really kill him by then.”

"That's what he's looking for, too," Chris admitted reluctantly. "A way to die. He wants to kill himself — that's why I don't think he'll try to hurt anyone this time." 

He wasn't sure he REALLY believed that, but if he didn't say something they might all go out and risk their lives pursuing Wesker, and they were barely hanging on as it was. They needed to focus on supplies, safety — if children were going to be here, they needed a place a child could grow up in. 

This rusted bunker was no place for anybody to spend most of their life...

Claire got up too, crossing her arms. 

“I think I get the 'different' part.” She came over to Chris's side and looked up at him. “Come on. Why would Wesker want to kill himself? He wanted to become a god.” She waved her hand. “Rule the world. That kind of thing.”

“Captain Redfield.” Chris's headpiece buzzed to life. It was one of the communications guards.

Chris met her eyes unhappily as he pressed the button on his headset. 

"Chris here. Report."

“Sir, Wesker left you a message. We just found it on the computer...it's a little weird,” the man added slowly.

Claire frowned. She was the only one in the room without a radio. She'd just have to guess what it was about from Chris's expression – ah, Wesker again.

Her brother was looking tired again. If she'd been around the past few days, she would have known that he hadn't slept much the night before. 

"I'm on my way," he said as briefly as possible, stepping toward the door. When he reached it he paused, glancing back at the two women. "This won't take long. Not a security problem," he reassured them, mostly for Claire's benefit since Sherry could hear exactly what he'd just heard.

He turned and stepped outside before they could reply.  


* * *

  
By the time he had reached the communications room, there were four guards gathered there – all leaning to stare wide eyed at the computer screen.

Chris cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence as he stepped inside. He had a bad feeling he knew what the message said, or at least part of it...

Three of the guards took off out the door, quietly excusing themselves. The last one turned to look up at him – eyebrows up. 

“Hey Captain. We've only managed to play back about fifteen seconds of it so far. It seems to have some kind of lock on it.” He got up and gestured to the chair. 

"It's a VOICE message?" Chris stepped over to look at the screen as well, uneasiness setting in. Text was easier to assume as sarcastic or lying — a recording had tone of voice to show how genuine it was. He was pretty sure Wesker had meant what he said, in his own crazy mixed up way. He'd certainly seemed sure of it himself.

He sat down in the chair and stared at the file like it might start playing itself if he thought about it hard enough. 

“Yes sir.” The guard nodded. He paused for a second by Chris's side and then cleared his throat. “I'm due for a...coffee break. I'll be back in a few minutes sir.” With that, he ducked outside.

“Chris. I believed you when you said that I deserve to live with this.” Wesker's voice was as cold as always, but something to it made Chris shiver. “To rot with the other living corpses. But I'll be thinking of you. I think I've found a way to make you lov-”

The message shut off abruptly.

Chris thought for a moment that that was the entire message, and started to sit up. Then he remembered the guard's comment about a locked file, and took a closer look at the screen. Was it locked? If Wesker meant it just for him, he would've left a way for Chris to unlock it. 

It was just a file on the screen. From what he could tell, it was playing from the flash drive plugged into the back of the computer.

He frowned and pulled the little device out, examining it. Maybe it had a switch — some did to lock the files. He wasn't that great with this kind of thing.

The drive made a soft beep and glowed blue.

That seemed to do something. Undoubtedly Wesker planned as much, too — Chris knew all too well how good the man was at leaving odd, brain-bending little puzzles around that had to be solved for no apparent reason. He was smart, very smart.

And he had more to say, and Chris wanted to hear it. He quickly plugged the flash drive back in and sat back up to look at the screen. 

An image of Wesker's face appeared on screen. It was very badly lit like maybe he had taken the video with the lights off. His red orange eyes glowed ominously behind his shades.

“Very good. I was concerned it'd be too clever for you.” The blond man sighed. “If you are listening to this – then I have made my escape and you have not followed me. Good. I have things to say that are of a sensitive nature.”

“Woah. Creepy.” The guard stepped back inside, holding an empty mug. “How'd you do that?”

Chris wasn't sure how to pause the message. It wasn't IN a window box, it just sort of filled the screen. So he put a hand on the guard's chest and kind of shoved him back toward the door. 

"You need coffee," he said hastily, pointing at the empty mug before slamming the door shut. 

He turned back to the computer, hoping he hadn't missed too much of the message. If only he'd found the damned thing before anybody else!

As terrifying as it was, the Wesker onscreen was chuckling now. 

“Oh Chris.”

Chris frowned and squinted at the screen. It was almost like he was reacting to things, but that was impossible. It was just a recording. 

“I always thought I'd win. And that you'd be there.” Wesker leaned closer to the screen and smiled slowly. “Giving me that same stupid look. Confused. Lost.” The mad man's smile dimmed. “Perfect.” He sat back again, almost entirely vanishing into the blackness. “I'll miss that.”

Then the familiar voice clip from earlier begin to repeat.

“Chris. I believed you when you said that I deserve to live with this. To rot with the other living corpses. But I'll be thinking of you. I think I've found a way to make you love me. It's the only gift I can give you that won't make you despise me more...my death.” Chris could just barely make out a smile in the dark. “Permanently. Goodbye Chris.”  


* * *

  
Jake was awakened by the distinctive muffled popping of a silenced pistol. The bed felt hard enough to make his head hurt where he was laying against it, and he was fully dressed, and Sherry wasn't beside him. Then he remembered that he wasn't IN his bed. He and Leon hadn't made it back before nightfall — they'd climbed up an old light-up sign platform and spent the night there.

And now Leon was shooting at something. Great.

“Hey sleeping beauty – the sun's coming up. We should get going.” The blond man said, leaning back inside the sign to check on Jake.

The redhead was already sitting up, giving his pockets a quick once-over to be sure everything was where it should be. 

"Jeez, did you ever even go to sleep?" He grumbled, stretching his arms over his head next.

“For a few minutes.” Leon said with a shrug. His eye bags were a testament to that. It was hard to sleep with all the moaning below them but he had managed a few quick naps. As soon as the sky was light enough to see, he had started plotting their route back to the base. It was within sight from the sign.

Jake only nodded, leaning past him to peer out at the ground below. 

"How clear is it?"

Leon looked down at the street too. 

“We should probably stay up high as much as possible.” He pointed out in front of them to a line of abandon cars. “We might be able to hop it, but not the whole way.”

"Whatever gets us there quickest, let's do that," Jake said flatly. He was impatient to get back and see Sherry. It had only been a day or two, but he was weirdly anxious about how she was pretty much whenever she was out of his sight ever since he'd heard about the baby.

Baby. He was still in disbelief. Him, a dad. Sherry a MOM. Good thing they still had a long time to get used to the idea.

Leon smiled at him knowingly. 

“She's okay. Chris is with her.” With that, the dashing secret agent hopped off the ladder and on top of an old fire truck. He had managed to snipe the zombies closest to the sign, but there were several blocks between them and the base. It was going to be a quiet trip if he didn't start the conversation. “So, what's it like having your dad around? You guys pals yet?” He asked sarcastically.

"If Redfield would let me near him I'd bash his face in," Jake called after him, angry at the mere mention of Wesker. As if it hadn't been enough of a rude shock to find out Wesker was his father, the man had turned around and pretty much wrecked the world as they knew it right afterward. It made him see red just thinking about it.

He’d told himself to focus on Sherry and let Chris deal with Wesker. Chris was the only one who seemed able to keep up with him at all. That, and he’d carefully kept Jake and his father from being in the same room at the same time.

The redhead was quickly moving after Leon across the tops of the cars as all of this crossed his mind. There were some shambling, groaning shapes in the distance; they wouldn't have it this easy for long.

“It's nice you haven't. I don't think Sherry needs that right now.” Leon added, regaining his balance as he almost slid off of a hybrid. “You know,” the tall blond turned back to Jake and smiled, patting the large satchel slung over his shoulder, “we should find her some vitamins. I know she's super girl and all, but she might need them. Lunch hasn't exactly been prime rib.” He turned and climbed across the hood, hopping lightly over into the back of a small truck.

It was really amazing that Jake and Wesker hadn't gotten into it yet. Jake had tried of course, but he had enough other stuff going on to keep him cooperative. Wesker didn't seem to want anything to do with his son and pretty much ignored him. Luckily, the base was big enough to keep them apart. Sort of.

Pulling himself up onto the cab, Leon could see the base more clearly now. Along with a steadily growing crowd of zombies looking their way. Shooting them all might attract more but at the same time there were just enough that charging through them seemed like a risky idea.

He sighed.

Jake skidded to a stop just in time to keep from knocking him off the roof of the car.

"What — vitamins? Why not just get her better food?" He asked, frowning. 

Leon had noticed that where Sherry was concerned, the guy's frowns were less irritated and more worried. He looked so much like Wesker, it was hard to remember sometimes how young he was. A normal guy Jake's age ought to have been in college.

Leon looked at him sideways. 

“Do you plan on gardening or...?” He shrugged a shoulder. “Prenatal vitamins. There are lots of department stores around – any of them will have vitamins. On the plus side, I seriously doubt anyone else will have taken them.” Studying Jake's face for a moment, he wondered vaguely if Wesker had ever had blue eyes. It made sense that he would, but it was hard to imagine. “We could stop off and check if you want to.”

Jake immediately nodded. 

"Yeah, of course — if it'll help then we should get it for her." 

He noticed Leon examining his eyes and face for perhaps a moment too long, and had to wonder what the guy was thinking about. Hopefully not anything weird...having a pregnant girlfriend ought to be a pretty good clue that he was straight, right?

He finally averted his eyes when Leon was STILL staring at them a moment later, pretending to glance around for a supermarket and clearing his throat loudly to try and snap the ex-cop out of it. Jeez, it was like they hadn't spent the last few days traveling together.

The blond man couldn't help smirking at Jake squirming under his gaze. He probably thought that Leon was comparing him to Wesker again. Since the power crazed madman had come back, it was impossible not to compare them. They looked so much alike. 

But he followed Jake's example and looked around for a department store. There were several in view, but one of them had all the glass busted out of the front. Not Leon's first choice. He looked back at Jake, but didn't comment yet. Now he really WAS comparing him to Wesker. At least Jake kept his hair short instead of slicked like his father.

Nor did he wear the black sunglasses Wesker was so fond of. That and the shaved short hair still did nothing to make Jake look less like his father, though. He just looked like Wesker in those unsettling moments when the man would remove the sunglasses and really look at you — usually right before committing some atrocity. It wasn't the best association to have when looking at one of your teammates.

Thankfully, Jake didn't seem to act much like Wesker. At the moment he was hopping off of the car and dashing down the street like Leon wasn't even with him, heading down some little alley instead of toward any of the supermarkets.

Sliding off the car, Leon ran after him. 

“Shortcut?” He called after the redhead, glancing down the street as a corpse sat up at attention at the sounds of their footsteps. 

"Not exactly," Jake called back, pausing and shooting the zombie an unimpressed look. He took a couple of steps toward it, gesturing over his shoulder at the alley without taking his eyes away. "I just remembered the little pharmacy down here."

Leon pulled his gun from his hip and looked down the alley. 

“Cool.” They wouldn't have to go too far out of their way then. He didn't want to say anything – but leaving Chris alone with Wesker seemed like a terrible idea. He knew exactly how to get under Chris's skin if he wanted to and manipulate him. In return, though, he seemed to be the only thing Wesker was interested in, which might be able to be used against him. 

The blond ducked in the alley after Jake. He'd have to have a chat with Chris.

Jake had waited until the zombie was on its feet before giving it a roundhouse kick to the head that left it flat on the ground again. Not that it wasn't still moving...so he stomped on its head for good measure. 

It probably wasn't intentional, but he even moved like Wesker.

Ignoring the chill that shot up his back, Leon peeked out of the end of the alley. At least it was light out now. 

“I know now's not really the time for this – but thanks for helping out.” He looked back at Jake and smiled. Baby Wesker, as Leon had jokingly named him in his head, didn't have to really help with anything around the base – but here he was on a two day supply run with Leon. It was all for Sherry, but it was still nice to have someone with super Wesker powers on their side for once.

He frowned. Chris’s partner, Piers, had been on their side too, but Leon hadn't had a chance to even officially meet the guy before he wound up dead.

"I've gotta do something," Jake replied, frowning and tightening his leather gloves. It was more for something to do than anything — he hadn't even punched the zombie. "If I stay in that tin can base too long I start going nuts. And I'd rather be out here than let Sherry go."

“She wanted to,” Leon admitted, looking at him again. He noted the leather gloves. What was it with the love of leather that seemed to run in the family? Even after being thrown in a volcano, the world ending and him coming back to life – Wesker had managed to track down a leather coat and shades.

There he was, looking at Jake again. The redhead stopped in the middle of adjusting one glove and peered over the top of it, his blue eyes narrowed. 

"...I wouldn't let her," he said flatly. 'Why do you keep staring at me?' was what he wanted to add, but didn't. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Instead, he shook his head and turned to inspect the little corner pharmacy grimly. The windows looked intact, the door was still up...good signs all.

Scanning over the immediate area for any more zombies, Leon tested the door's handle. It was locked.

Jake circled around the side of the little building, checking for any other ways in. He leaned out to the path again and waved for Leon to follow. 

"Over here, there's a window."

It was only open a tiny crack, but that was enough.

The blond man came over quickly. Even the way Jake beckoned someone over was like Wesker. He leaned in next to the redhead and examined the window. 

“That works, I guess.”

Jake leaned and scrutinized the little opening in the window. He could practically feel Leon's eyes on him. Jeez, if the guy could stop staring for five minutes then they could be on their way home already...

Grabbing the edge of the frame, he gave the window a firm pull to try and lift it open on the sliding frame.

Before Leon could offer to help, the window frame snapped – cracking the glass all the way through. He reached up and caught a large piece as it came loose, tossing it off to the side. The noise it made wasn't good.

Deciding that the noise was already made, Jake went ahead and ripped the frame away, tossing it to the side. Then he paused at the window and listened for any sounds inside. It was entirely possible that a zombie had been stuck in there this whole time.

Leon also paused to listen and then nodded. 

“Sounds like nobody's home.” He sat up and leaned to look into the pharmacy. It was dark inside other than the light from the window. He turned back to Jake, fighting off the urge to take a step backwards and give him some space. “Need a boost?”

The redhead sat up and shot him a look, shaking his head slightly. 

"I think I can handle it," he said dryly, looking back at the window. After a moment to consider, he made a dash for it and dove right through, narrowly missing the jagged edges still lining the sides and bottom. 

How he was sure he wouldn't hit a piece of furniture in there, Leon wouldn't ever know.

Leon leaned against the wall at the bottom of the window to keep watch. The sky looked like it might rain today but hopefully later. He chuckled. Here he was, sitting in the middle of a ruined city – rummaging for supplies and fighting for his life – and he was thinking about the weather. 

Even the apocalypse had become routine after awhile.

After what felt like a long time, Jake started tossing large bottles and boxes of medicine out the window. 

"Heads up," he called to Leon as the first bottle came flying out and landed in the dust. Fortunately, it was a plastic one.

Jake might not have been that educated on the need for prenatal vitamins, but apparently he could find them easily enough in a pharmacy — along with some precious other medications they always needed, like penicillin and painkillers.

“Nice.” Leon dug in his satchel, pulling out several reusable bags. Hey. Plastic wasn't good for the environment, he thought to himself with a smirk. Plus, it ripped way easier than his cloth bags. “Chris might even kiss you.” He paused at the offhanded comment. It wasn't as funny as it had sounded in his head.

It was really hard not to notice the way Wesker acted about Chris. It was more than a little creepy, but Chris hadn't exactly wanted to talk to HIM about it. Maybe he should just ask? The brunette captain seemed to be determined to hide whatever was going on with the two of them for now – but the stress of it was starting to show.

As if he'd been able to hear Leon's thoughts, Jake poked his head out the window and demanded, "What?" He was, Leon realized, just replying to the kiss comment.

A little too seriously.

Hoping to avoid a very awkward conversation, Leon shoved another box of pills into a bag. 

“We've been low on this stuff.” He avoided looking up at the redhead and grabbed a few of the free rolling bottles and added them to the bag. The trip had certainly been worth it.

Jake arched an eyebrow at him — damn if his brows didn't even ARCH just like Wesker's — and then disappeared inside again. He came diving out the window a split second later, rolling to a stop in a crouch a few feet away.

Leon glanced up at him evenly. He even rolled like Wesker. And he wore black – and didn't seem to like Chris. All very Wesker-y qualities. But they did have distinct differences. First off, Jake didn't seem interested in ruling the world. He was way more interested in taking care of Sherry – which made him a thousand times more appealing than Wesker to Leon. Suddenly aware that he was staring again, the blond stood up and slung the bags over his shoulder. 

"Okay, what is it?" Jake apparently had had enough of the staring, too. He stepped toward Leon, scowling and pointing at him. "Is there somethin' on my face?"

Leon frowned at him and headed off out of the alley. The last thing he wanted was to bicker with Jake the whole way back. The sooner – and quieter – they got back, the better.

He heard quiet muttering from behind him. Jake didn't pursue the subject, but he sure didn't sound happy about it, either. Leon was probably not the only one who stared at him and was reminded of Wesker. Chris certainly did it, although he tried not to let the recognition show.

The sun was higher in the sky now, the shadows not quite so long. They had the best chance of getting back quickly while the light was good like this.  


* * *

  
Falling asleep on his desk was never very comfortable. Chris became suddenly aware of a stack of papers under his cheek and a hot cup being sat into his hand. Someone must have finally found coffee. 

Then a kiss was placed on the top of his head.

His mind was still foggy from sleep, but he couldn't figure out who would kiss him. Claire, maybe? But she hadn't done that in years and years. Wait, since when did paperwork matter to anybody anymore...?

The brunette slowly sat up on his elbows against the desktop, blinking down at the steaming cup of coffee one of his hands was curled around. The steam caught his attention more than the source — rather, the light shining through it.

Sunlight? This wasn't underground, or underwater. He wasn't in the base.

Startled at that realization, he quickly looked around him, trying to get his bearings and wondering if he was dreaming. He'd gone to sleep in the base, he was sure that he had.

A hand patted his shoulder, rubbing it gently. 

“Late night?” Came a way too familiar voice from beside him.

Wesker leaned around him and placed a hand on the desk, dark shades covering eyes as he examined the papers. “What are you working on this time?”

Chris's mouth just about dropped open. 

"Uh," he said intelligently, blinking and clutching the cup of coffee tightly. "Wesker? What're you doing here?" He was tempted to asked where 'here' was, too, but he already sounded crazy enough.

Wesker looked different. Chris had never seen him in anything but dressy leather coats or uniforms, and now he was wearing...well, a SWEATER. A grey one, with a slight V-neck. It looked soft. His manner seemed softer, too, less imposing. Where the hell had that thought come from? 

The blond man chuckled. With how weirdly he was dressed – the sunglasses made no sense to Chris. They were usually a complete set with the coat. 

“I live here.” He leaned in and kissed Chris briefly. “Breakfast is ready when you are.” 

Stunned, Chris reached a hand up and caught the blond by the shoulder, staring at him. 

"What is this?" He glanced around the room like the rays of sunlight might run into blood and the walls were going to decay from around them any moment. Hey, he had seen worse. 

“Arabica,” Wesker said bluntly.

"Huh?" Chris turned to stare at him again, then blinked and glanced down at the mug of coffee, the meaning of the word sinking in. He looked up at Wesker again. The sunlight just glowed off of his pale hair and even paler skin; everything about him seemed lighter and less menacing, although the arched brow was definitely the same. 

Frowning, he stood up — and pulled Wesker's sunglasses off. This was some delusional dream of his. His mind was playing tricks, making him imagine what it would be like if Wesker really did have feelings for him, and he had to see those red eyes to snap himself out of it.

“Oh.” Wesker blinked, glancing down at the sunglasses and then up at Chris again. “I forgot I was wearing those. Thanks.” His eyes weren't red at all. No. They were crystal blue. 

The blond took the shades and tucked them into his shirt. “I had to run to the store this morning.” He stepped past Chris, heading out the door. “I think Jake's coming down with something.” He paused in the door and smirked back at Chris. “Even through all the phony coughing.” He turned and disappeared out the door.

Chris was still standing by the desk, just looking at him like he'd seen a ghost. He was shaken. Wesker's eyes weren't red. His way to prove to himself that this wasn't real...hadn't been there. Did that mean this WAS real?

And why didn't that unsettle him more? Slowly, he picked up the mug of coffee and stepped over to look out the window at the yard. Wesker talked about Jake like he actually knew him, and acknowledged him as a son. And maybe treated him like a little kid...

The world outside looked just like it had ten years ago. Bright, sunny. There were figures walking past on the street – but they weren't the twisted forms of the undead – they were normal people. An Asian couple holding hands. The mailman. A little kid running up the sidewalk. It seemed so surreal.

“Piers, I'm not going to tell you again.” He heard Wesker from somewhere in the house. 

Piers?


	2. Mr and Mr Wesker

Chris turned and stepped through the doorway leading out of what appeared to be his office, following the direction he'd heard the voice. Piers was here? Jake and Piers...and Wesker. It was almost upsetting how easily he could write off the peaceful people outside as some kind of illusion. He didn't believe in that kind of easy life anymore. It was just a distant memory of better times...right?

He stepped down a short hallway with doors lining the sides, and emerged into a carpeted living room with a flatscreen TV against one wall, and a rather messy assortment of children's toys and books scattered across the floor. 

The front door pushed open and the little boy he had seen tearing up the sidewalk ducked inside, looking alarmed. He sat something down inside a nearby planter and turned around. Wide gray eyes spotted Chris and he flinched.

Forgetting that he was holding the coffee mug, Chris stepped over to get a better look at him, wide-eyed. The eyes and hair and expression were unmistakably those of Piers, but he was just a little boy somehow. And very much alive. 

“There you are.” Wesker said, walking past Chris to the child. He paused. “Why in the world are you covered in mud?” The blond hissed, grabbing for Piers – who ran and latched onto Chris's leg. “Did you go outside after I told you not to?” Wesker asked flatly, following after him.

“No...” The little boy said meekly.

“Then how did you get covered in mud?”

Piers stared at him quietly, still clinging to Chris's leg tightly.

“That's what I thought.” Wesker grumbled.

Chris blinked, snapping out of his daze. Still clutching the coffee mug in one hand like it was his one reminder of his sanity, he reached down and patted little Piers' back. 

"It's not so bad," he told Wesker, trying not to seem as affected as he was by seeing Piers alive again. Even as a child...it was him, and he was alive, and human. 

“If you still want blueberries on your waffles – I suggest you go wash your hands, young man.”

The toddler released Chris's leg and darted off happily. 

“Waffles?!”

“No! Hands first!” Wesker called after him. He turned back to Chris. “You let him get away with everything.” The tall man closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Chris's waist. Smirking, Wesker stared down at the brunette affectionately. “You know it'll make him a monster.” He shrugged. “And it makes Jake jealous.”

Monster? Chris looked at him sadly and shook his head, putting the coffee cup on the nearest flat surface he could find — the window sill. He turned back to Wesker and wondered what he could possibly say that wouldn't come out sounding stupid. 

After a moment of trying, he relented and let himself wrap his arms around the tall blond, hugging him tightly. Why was his mind showing him this? Was it some cruel joke? It didn't feel like a dream, it felt real — vividly real. Wesker certainly felt real. 

“Are you alright?” Wesker asked softly, rubbing Chris's back. “You seem a little off.” He hugged the brunette tightly. “You're not catching Jake's cold, are you?”

Chris closed his eyes and drew a slow breath. 

It wasn't real, he assured himself. The world was really a wreck. Wesker was crazy and suicidal, he wasn't far behind, and Piers...was gone. This was just an odd, impossible dream, and somehow it was actually getting to him.

"Bad dreams," he replied just as quietly, sighing. When talking to a dream, being awake seemed like the illusion, right? Reality was more like a nightmare at the moment, so he described it that way to the dream people. Why not? It was all in his head anyway, he figured.

“Daddy, I washed my hands – can I have blueberries now?” Piers interrupted, holding out his hands for Wesker to see. He came over near their legs and held them up higher. “Please?”

Wesker looked down at him. 

“Yes, I'll be there in a minute.”

Piers turned to leave, but then spun back around and looked at them sweetly. 

“Can I have Jake's waffles too?”

“No.” Wesker sighed and then patted Chris's back. “I better go get him out of bed. Would you help Piers with his blueberries?”

Chris let go of him, but still looked at him for a moment more. Then he glanced down at little Piers still waiting impatiently for him to take some kind of action, and broke into a small smile. 

The expression on the kid's face was the exact one Piers had always given him when Chris needed to get a grip and keep moving. It was the 'soldier up, Captain' face. He'd missed it. 

"Sure," he told Wesker, stepping into the kitchen and making a beeline for the fridge. "C'mon, Piers." Blueberries would probably be in the fridge, right? Things like clean kitchen counters and dessert-like breakfast seemed like another life ago; it was so far away from the rations and metal walls in the base. Sherry's baby might grow up thinking that was normal.

Trailing after him, Piers climbed on top of his chair and leaned on the table. He scooted his plate closer to the fridge clumsily. 

“I have bad dreams too.”

Chris located the bowl of blueberries and lifted it carefully out of the fridge, placing it on the countertop. He glanced at Piers. 

"You heard that, huh? I think everybody does sometimes," he offered. 

It was so strange to see Piers like this. It was a child, but still so blatantly HIM. It made Chris wish he was his normal age, though, so that he could apologize for how things had turned out. He was sure the little boy wouldn't understand what he was talking about, though.

“But mine are all about daddy.” The little boy said, sticking a hand into the bowl of blueberries while he spoke. “And all the crying people...in the white coats.” He added, dumping a second handful of berries on top of his waffles. He looked up Chris, large gray eyes curious. “Do you dream about daddy?”

Chris blinked and reached to gently move his hand away from the bowl. He turned and picked up the serving spoon from the counter, if only so that little Piers wouldn't get scolded for not using it when Wesker returned in a moment. 

"Sometimes," he replied worriedly. "Why are the people in the coats crying?"

The tiny boy shook his head. 

“I don't know.” He frowned cutely. “I think they want to go outside of their rooms. But daddy won't let them.” Piers looked up at him again. 

Somewhat disturbed by the scenarios this description brought to mind, Chris reached over and patted the little boy's shoulder. 

"They're just bad dreams, Piers. Sometimes people do things in dreams that they'd never do when they're awake," he said. Kind of like living with him and raising two kids together. The real Wesker would never do anything like... 

Even his thoughts trailed off as he finally noticed his own hand thanks to patting Piers. His left hand...with the wedding ring on one finger.

Piers stared up at him curiously. 

“Daddy scares me when he gets mad. I think he's going to lock me up too.”

“Only if you keep rolling around in the mud like a pig,” Wesker said as he came back in. The sound of his voice make Piers jump again. The usually ominous blond was holding another little boy wrapped in a blanket. Jake. He looked like he might be around five years old and from the way his cheeks were flushed, he had just been sleeping. Chris took note of a matching ring on Wesker's finger as he sat Jake down on the chair across from Piers. “Now eat your waffles.”

Chris nodded at Piers, agreeing with Wesker. He stood there and looked at the blond man with Jake, who looked just like a miniature Wesker with red hair. Chris wasn't sure he'd ever even seen them side by side before. 

He fidgeted with the ring on his finger and stepped past into the living room, remembering that he'd left his cup of coffee out there. This was all a bit overwhelming. He was sure he'd wake up soon.

Before he could even reach his coffee cup, there was a knock on the living room door.

“Anyone home?” The front door opened and Claire leaned in. “Someone left the door unlocked again!” She grinned at seeing Chris, tugging a little girl along after her. “Chris! Hey, good morning. Sorry we're so early. Bill said he had to go to the office.” She shook her head, guiding the girl toward the horde of toys in the living room. “I mean, who goes to the office on a Saturday?”

Chris stared at her, utterly confused. Bill? Who was Bill? The little girl looked familiar. She had fluffy short blond hair. If Piers and Jake were this young...

He blinked and turned to follow Claire, only just remembering to pick up his coffee cup in time. 

"Claire," he said uncertainly. "Good morning."

She frowned at him. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” 

“Where's Piers?” The little girl asked loudly, glancing around. She looked up at Chris and waved a hand happily. “Hi uncle Chris!”

Still concerned by the look on Chris's face, Claire gently pushed Sherry toward the kitchen. 

“I bet he's eating breakfast. Go say hi!”

As soon as the blond toddler was out of sight, his sister turned to scrutinize him. “What's going on? More trouble in paradise?”

Chris glanced after little Sherry and blinked, shaking his head. He looked back at his sister, then down at his rapidly-cooling coffee. 

"No...everything seems great," he said, like he didn't quite believe it. Which he didn't, of course. "Just didn't sleep well, I guess." 

“Really? Come on, Chris. I know when something's wrong.” The brunette woman came over to his side and sighed. “You know you can tell me anything – gay stuff and all.” She added with a smirk.

Chris glanced over at Wesker, who was thankfully distracted with the kids, and nodded. He stepped over further into the living room, still clutching his coffee. When he stopped and waited for Claire to follow, he finally ventured to take a sip.

Well now he knew it was a dream. He hadn't had coffee that tasted this good in forever.

Claire followed his lead, also glancing in Wesker's direction. She sat down on the far couch and looked at Chris expectantly. 

"How..." Chris cleared his throat and lowered his voice even further, whispering. "H-how long have we been married?"

“Huh?” Claire said quickly, frowning. She rubbed her forehead thoughtfully. “Two years, right?” The auburn haired woman looked back up at him and gasped. “Did Wesker forget your anniversary?”

Chris was bothered that he actually didn't know the answer to that question. If Wesker had forgotten, he couldn't exactly hold him responsible when Chris couldn't remember it, either. 

"No, nothing like that," he assured Claire, sipping his coffee again. He frowned. "...I've had some pretty weird dreams lately. Disturbing stuff. Wesker's in them." As with Piers, he figured the best way to describe real life to dream people was that it was another dream.

When was he going to wake up? It felt so comfortable here that going back to his metal base room would be kind of miserable.

“Oh...” Claire said softly, her eyes drifting off to look anywhere but at Chris. She thought over what he said and patted the couch beside her. “I...have some stuff I need to tell you.” She glanced towards the kitchen. “Wesker told me not to, but I really think he should have told you first.”

Chris blinked and slowly sat down beside her. What, something about this ideal little dream world wasn't perfect?

"What is it?"

Waiting for him to sit, Claire sighed. 

“Okay. About a month ago, I came over to let Sherry play with the boys and Wesker wanted to talk to me. He was acting really weird – asking about how you were and if you seemed like you were happy.” She frowned deeply. “Then he started asking about how the boys were and if they ever talked about him.”

She patted Chris's arm and looked him in the eye. “Is he..hurting you or something?”

Chris blinked, opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. He took a long deliberate sip of his coffee to try and buy time to formulate a response to that. In this little dream world, Wesker didn't seem at all threatening. He seemed too nice to be true.

“Oh my god. Is that a yes?” She hissed, putting a hand on Chris's shoulder. “Chris...jeez! I don't even know what to say,” his sister mumbled, shaking her head. “Are the boys okay? I can watch them anytime you want me to, you know that right?”

Chris swallowed his last sip of coffee a little too hard and coughed slightly. 

"I-it's nothing like that," he told Claire hastily, trying to keep his voice down. He glanced over at the breakfast table, hoping Wesker hadn't heard anything.

Luckily, Wesker was busy keeping Jake and Sherry from lobbing blueberries at each other. Piers was watching him intently – a look of fear still on his face.

Claire breathed a sigh of relief and glared at him. 

“Then what's the matter with you two?”

"Definitely not...THAT," Chris said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. Jeez, he wasn't exactly easy for anybody to push around. Did he have that much of a weakness for Wesker? "He's great, he didn't do anything wrong." 'In this lifetime', he added silently, sighing a little.

"I'm just a little confused. I'm having trouble remembering some things," he confessed, sheepishly trying to steer the blame game away from Wesker. This Wesker hadn't really done anything to deserve it, right?

Continuing to glare at him, Claire tilted her head. 

“That's not good. Did you finally fry that pea brain of yours?” She playfully knocked on the side of his head and finally broke away from frowning. “You really had me worried.”

Chris blinked and shrugged, hoping he didn't look TOO scowly about that pea brain remark. 

"I don't know. I stayed up so late last night that I fell asleep at my desk," he admitted. "Don't worry about it, I'm okay. Probably just need more coffee." He took another big sip for emphasis.

“I'll probably remember things differently, but feel free to ask,” his sister said, getting the sense that it was worse then Chris was letting on. She patted his shoulder. “Coffee sounds great. I'll be right back.” She hopped up off of the couch and disappeared into the other room.

Without warning, Piers came racing in from the kitchen along with Sherry. 

“Let's open a restaurant!”

“Okay!” The little blond cheered, almost falling into the toy pile as they stopped to rummage for fake food. “I'll be the cook!”

Chris sat up, clutching the coffee mug still. 

"You two washed your hands, right?" He asked the kids, blinking. He wasn't sure why he cared. Somehow, sticky little hands all over toys all over the carpet seemed like something that would bother his husband.

Wesker. He was married to Wesker. He still wasn't quite comprehending that yet. 

The toddlers looked at him like deer in the headlights. The little brunette boy looked down at his heads guiltily.

“I ate with a fork,” Sherry said, going back to her fake hamburger.

Chris stood up and stepped over to look at their mess of toys, coffee still in hand. 

"Piers, you should go wash your hands really quick so you don't get the toys sticky," he said, smiling. "Sherry's still gonna be here when you get back."

Reluctantly, Piers crawled to his feet and headed off to the bathroom. 

“Okay dad.” He toddled off unhappily.

Claire returned – but not with a cup of coffee. Instead, she was cuddling Jake in her arms and planting a big kiss on his cheek. 

“Aww, poor little guy.”

Wesker trailed after her quietly, two cups of coffee in hand. He looked very somber.

Chris glanced over at them, quickly scanning both of their expressions. He hoped Claire hadn't tried to talk to Wesker the same way she'd talked to him.

If she had, he felt bad for being the cause of it. Stepping over, he leaned and kissed the blond's cheek. That felt so weird to do. Maybe Claire would get the message that Wesker wasn't the problem, though.

Wesker looked down at him, seeming to snap out of his daze. He looked to where Sherry was playing with concern. 

“Where's Piers?”

"Washing his hands," Chris said, glancing toward the bathroom. "Listen...he seems a little anxious lately. Try to go easy on him, okay?" 

Jake poked his head out of the top of his blanket and peered at Chris and Wesker over Claire's shoulder. He looked half-asleep, but still managed to look indignant about being cuddled.

Piercing blue eyes flicked his direction and Wesker nodded silently, sitting the coffee cups down and heading straight back into the kitchen. 

Claire watched him go and frowned, absently petting Jake's head. She leaned forward to peer into the bathroom. Piers was indeed washing his hands, counting under his breath. Chris's sister met his gaze with concern. 

“Should I go talk to Wesker?”

Chris quickly shook his head, reaching over and patting Jake's back. Poor kid looked really feverish. 

"No, I should. Claire, did you say something to him?" He looked at her pointedly.

She stared back at him and shook her head. 

“No.” Shifting Jake in her arms, Claire sighed. Whatever was going on with Wesker, Piers was the obvious trigger. It made her stomach churn. The tiny boy was so sweet – what could Wesker possible have a problem with?

“He came to me,” she admitted. “He wanted to know how Piers was. I told him what I thought was true – Piers was fine.” She gestured to the little boy as he darted back over to join Sherry. “I wish I knew more, but he wouldn't open up to me.”

"Wesker's stricter than me, but this isn't his fault," Chris said, wondering if it was really true. He'd just gotten here, what did he know? He lowered his voice, glancing back toward the kitchen. "...Piers is having nightmares. I'll be right back, okay?"

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and headed back to the kitchen quickly. For some reason, it bothered him that Wesker had retreated so quickly. Sure, Claire didn't exactly seem to think highly of him, so it made sense that he would distance himself, but Chris didn't want to seem like he was picking sides.

Wow, since when did he care? It was Wesker. Wesker usually WAS on the opposite side as Chris...

Sitting perched on a chair by the kitchen window, Wesker had his head clutched in his hands. He didn't move when Chris came in.

Chris stopped and looked at him, wondering what to do. If there was one thing he hadn't expected to find Wesker doing, it was looking upset. Years of experience told him to approach with caution, and to expect the man to turn around with glowing eyes and a dangerous smile at any second.

He surprised himself when he stepped over and placed his hands gently on the blond's shoulders. 

"Hey," he said, trying not to sound worried. Everybody was worried, and all for different reasons.

Wesker sat up a bit at his touch. Looking back over his shoulder, his eyes seemed stormy. He turned on the chair and hugged Chris tightly around the waist, pulling him closer. The blond man stared up at Chris – trying to read his expression. 

After a long moment, he spoke quietly. 

“Maybe this isn't the life I'm supposed to have.” He trailed his hands up Chris's back, loosening their embrace. “Married. Living in the suburbs...raising kids.” He added sadly, eyes drifting to the floor. Wesker leaned his head against Chris's chest. “Tell me the truth...were those bad dreams about me?”

Chris blinked and wrapped his arms around his husband, feeling a strange little pang in his chest. He'd never seen Wesker like this. It brought out some protective instinct in him. Damn it, this might be a dream, but it was a vivid one. 

"You're not responsible for other people's dreams," he said quietly.

“Maybe I am,” Wesker replied just as softly, sitting up again. He stared up at Chris evenly. “He won't even let me near him now. He thinks I'll hurt him.” The usually calm blond stood up to look Chris in the eye. “But I never would. I'd never hurt any of you.” He gently pulled Chris against him, sighing and resting his chin on the muscular brunette's shoulder. “You're my life.”

“Captain Redfield!” Came a jolting voice in his ear. In a heartbeat, he was back in his dim room – face firmly planted on his work bench. He could almost feel the blond's arms around him for a brief moment, then he was gone.

Sitting up slowly, he looked around, disoriented by the return of the dim metal room in the base. The air was cold and smelled vaguely metallic, too. Just as he'd started to like the odd fantasy he'd been in, real life had come crashing back down around his ears. 

Speaking of ears... He dragged a hand up and pressed the button on the earpiece, groaning. 

"Chris here..."

“Thank god! Are you okay Captain? We've been trying to get a hold of you for a good ten minutes!” The guard paused to tell someone Chris was okay before continuing. “Sir, Agent Kennedy is back and wants you to meet him in the gate room.”

Chris sighed. 

"Roger that. I'll be there."

He didn't bother to explain that he had been sleeping. They could draw their own conclusions by how tired he sounded. 

Stepping out of his room and starting down the hallway, he combed his fingers through his hair and tried to get the image of Wesker's eyes out of his head. Crystal blue, a storm of emotions brewing in them. Why did that bother him so much? Why was he still worrying about it?

But the vision of Wesker's face just inches from his remained vivid – almost alive. Clearly, his brain had a different version of Wesker that it preferred.

“Wow. Late night?” Leon chuckled. He and Jake had come down from the main gate and met Chris before he could even head up the tunnel. Both of them were lugging along bags of supplies. “Is that a bullet print in your face?”

Chris brought a hand up to feel for whatever mark the blond was talking about, frowning distantly. 

"You could say that," he said, looking Leon and Jake over. "No injuries?"

"Not unless you count the zombies," the redhead replied drolly, adjusting the bags he had slung over his shoulders. "How's Sherry?"

"Fine," Chris replied, stepping over and taking a few of the bags off of their hands. He turned and started back down the hallway, expecting them to follow. "Claire just got back."

“Glad she made it. How's the whole Wesker thing working out for you?” Leon glanced down the halls curiously. “He's not following you anymore?”

There went that image of Wesker again – not the snickering, glowy-eyed one in the video, but the blue-eyed one in his arms telling Chris he was his life. The Wesker he'd been married to. 

Chris brought a hand to his forehead and sighed, deciding not to reply. 

"Just...I'll explain in a minute." 

“Oh. Okay.” Leon replied shortly, giving Jake a raised eyebrow. Not seeing Wesker was scarier than having him follow Chris around all day. It meant he was unguarded somewhere. “We stopped off at a pharmacy. Jake found some pretty good stuff in there.”

The redhead was scowling now. If something happened with Wesker, and Sherry was in any kind of danger...Sherry and their KID...

Chris glanced back at them, trying to show a little enthusiasm. Judging by the number of bags, they'd found a lot of good supplies. 

"Medicine? That's great, we're low on everything," he said. 

Catching sight of Jake's blue eyes, he paused and looked back at him, blinking. Wesker – they looked just like Wesker's. 

The redhead twitched a bit. 

"What?"

“Don't look at him. He's a little grumpy today.” Leon said to Chris as he sped up past him. “Woke up on the wrong side of the billboard.”

Chris forced a smile and started walking again. 

"Sorry, Jake. Sounds like you did good out there, though."

Maybe that's where his mind had gotten the look of Wesker's eyes for that dream – from Jake. It made more sense than saying he'd married the blond in another lifetime, even though that's what it felt like. 

It was just a dream, he told himself tiredly. He was losing his mind if he let himself believe that anything like that would ever happen in real life...

“Yeah he did great – where's Wesker?” Leon prodded, walking backwards to fix Chris with a glare. “When he's not with you – Sherry should be.” He knew that Jake was worried about her – but he was too.

Chris glanced at him, frowning. He looked ahead again and took a deep breath. 

"Gone."

"What? What do ya mean gone?" Jake demanded, hurrying to catch up to them. He leaned around Chris's shoulder and stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Did you kill him?"

Chris promptly shook his head.

“Then what? You let him go? No offense – but I didn't really think he'd leave when you're here. You know. Obsessed.” Leon cringed, dropping back along Chris's other side. 

Chris gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. What did they want him to say, WHY Wesker would leave? He couldn't control the man – no one person could. He'd thought they all knew that, even though he had taken personal responsibility for watching over Wesker while he was in the base.

"He left," he said flatly. "I got to the door in time to see him jumping out. That's it, he's gone."

"Then why aren't we goin' out and hunting him down?" Jake asked, incredulous. Great – his nut-job dad was just running loose out there! He could come back anytime and kill them all, including Sherry.

“Huh.” The blond man slowed his pace a little. “I'm actually with Jake on this one. We should go find him and put him in the ground again. Or a volcano I guess.”

"We're already barely hanging on, here," Chris said, frowning at him. "I won't waste resources and risk anybody else's lives chasing after Wesker. He's not trying to take over the world this time, he's just suicidal."

"Suicidal," Jake repeated sarcastically. "Yeah, sure. He made himself practically invincible and tried to infect the whole planet so he could turn around and off himself. Why didn't I think of that?"

Chris turned his back, starting forward again. 

"I won't send anybody out after him," he repeated firmly. "I'll take care of it myself."

“He'll K.O. you in two seconds, Chris.” Finally arriving at their makeshift medical room, Leon dumped the bags on the floor. “Besides, like I'll let you go alone.” The blond smirked.

Chris sat down the bags he was carrying, too, and didn't reply. He knew that Wesker could easily overpower him – of course he of all people ought to know. What else could he do, though? He was pretty sure he was the only person Wesker might hesitate to actually kill, so it made sense that he was the lowest risk person to go confront him.

"If anybody else goes, he'll just hurt them to draw me out," he said grimly. "It's me he wants to come to him, if anybody – it's always me, so I'll just go. It's not up for debate."

Jake tossed the bags he had brought down and whirled around, heading straight back out the door. 

"I'm gonna check on Sherry," he grumbled over his shoulder by way of explanation.

“Well, I think it is. You can't just go throw yourself at him and hope he doesn't kill you. You said he was suicidal – he's probably not going to care if you die, too,” Leon argued, ignoring Jake as he left.

Chris looked at the empty doorway unhappily. 

"You really think it makes any difference where we are? If he wanted to kill me, Leon, he would've just done it here instead of leaving. He told me not to follow him, too."

“What? Why? You mean, he stopped in the middle of escaping to tell you NOT to follow him?” The former agent asked slowly. “Chris, HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU,” he said loudly. “He's baiting you out – why else would he stop to SAY that?”

Chris turned to him, admitting, "I don't know. Why wouldn't he just do it, though? He could've gone to my room and killed me just as easily as he sneaked to the front door. Nobody would've gotten there in time." He frowned deeply and looked down at the rusting metal floor. "...There's another side to this, too. He left me a message." 

The blond man crossed his arms. 

“Did it say for you not to listen to it?”

Chris sighed a little, turning and looking inside one of the bags of supplies idly to not have to keep looking at Leon. He looked so accusing, but also concerned – like Chris was too dumb to be safe about the situation on his own. Maybe he was...

"There was a trick to it," he explained. "I had to do something to the flash drive to make the whole thing play – and he knew what I'd do, so it worked."

“Okay.” Leon stepped over beside him, arms still crossed. His attitude had faded and now he just looked worried. “What did he say?”

"That he was leaving," Chris said a bit flatly. "To kill himself. Permanently." He frowned, adding quietly, "He said goodbye."

Leon leaned around him to look at his face. 

“...That's hard to believe. Did he say why or just 'the world's not here to rule – I'm killing myself?'”

Jake was right. Wesker worked so hard to make himself invincible that it made no sense for him to kill himself. Ever.

Chris opened his mouth, then shut it again. He looked over at Leon like the blond might be able to give him some suitable answer to say. How did you explain that Albert Wesker had gone off to kill himself because he wanted you to love him and not sound insane? 

Sure that his expression looked torn and conflicted, Chris finally replied, "He said it's all he can do that won't make me hate him more. He called it a gift to me." 

He felt a little sick. Why did he keep thinking of the Wesker in his dream going off and committing suicide instead of the real one? 

The blond's eyebrows rose and he blinked. 

“A gift. Wow.” Leon rubbed his chin, turning away to pace. The question lingering in his mind was probably the right one to ask, but he wasn't sure Chris would just open up about...whatever it was he and Wesker had been doing for the past decade. But hey – now was the time for awkward questions – they were alone.

He turned around suddenly and cleared his throat, trying to sound as casual as he could muster. 

“So, I probably should have asked this years ago.” He paused to glance up at Chris. “Are you and Wesker...um. Involved?” He cringed at what he was sure would be the answer.

"Are we..." Chris trailed off, stunned. Had Leon really just said that aloud? Worse, why the hell was he hesitating in denying it? It must be that dream again. He was pretty sure that was a Wesker he could love. 

Realizing that he was just sitting there staring at Leon, the brunette groaned and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"That...isn't exactly what I'd call it."

“Oh wow,” Leon mumbled, running a hand through his hair. Now that it had been said, he suddenly felt awkward. Knowing Chris for so long, it was a little hard to believe he was into men. Well. Wesker couldn't really be counted as 'man' – more like monster. Either way, it was weird.

Collecting his thoughts, Leon busied himself unloading the bags. “I wondered how you always lived through fighting him. Did you guys kiss and make up?” He smirked up at the brunette.

"That's not what this is," Chris said heavily, almost sad about it. Maybe if it HAD been like that, he could've convinced Wesker not to do some of the horrible things he'd done.

It figured that Leon of all people would pick up on the attraction aspect of things. Chris was pretty sure the blond was gay, himself. If he wasn't, he would've slept with one of the scorching hot women he always wound up partnered with, right?

Leon stood up, a bottle of painkillers in his hand. 

“Look, I don't care if you're gay or what but...Wesker? Really? How did you guys – no wait. I don't really want to know.” The blond grimaced. “Let's just lock the doors and hope he actually goes through with it.”

Chris couldn't look him in the eye right then. He felt judged, but really, he hadn't expected any better. How could anybody understand what he didn't even fully understand, himself? Not that he and Wesker had ever really done anything like what Leon was implying. 

He was tired and frustrated, though, and a little lost about where exactly he stood on the subject. So instead of explaining anything more to Leon, he only told the blond quietly, "Yeah. Don't tell anybody else...it doesn't change anything." 

He turned toward the door, not sure where he was going exactly but not willing to stay here and attempt to talk any longer. What was wrong with him? Why hadn't he just denied it and acted shocked Leon would even think so?

“Whoa, whoa.” Leon grabbed his arm, dropping the pill bottle. “Hey. Look.” He patted Chris' shoulder. “I won't tell anyone, just don't go running off to die.” The tall blond sighed deeply. “But if you do, try sweet talking him before the rhino charge.” He patted the beefy man's chest.

Chris blinked a little at the strange advice, chancing a look at the other man's face. Leon looked pretty serious, for what it was worth. 

"We're not together," Chris informed him quietly. He frowned. "Are you saying that if I left right now, you wouldn't raise the alarm?"

“I'd give you a ten minute head start.” 

Chris patted Leon's shoulder and offered a small, troubled smile. 

"Don't tell Claire." 

Turning, he hurried out the door before he could change his mind. What had that been? Had he really just had that conversation? It felt surreal. After all of these years, he'd admitted he was attracted to Wesker. Aloud. 

And now he was running off on his own to try and find the man. Between that and the strange dreams, he was convinced that he was finally just starting to lose his mind. It was either be an alcoholic or face up to real life, and since he'd sworn to stay sober, real life had been kicking his ass. Maybe he was supposed to go off and get himself killed and be done with it – this was exhausting.


	3. The Crying People

Jake found Sherry – and Claire – perched on one of the many beds in the room that had been designated the common room. Both women looked to be in high spirits, talking quietly to themselves.

“...I really wish I got to know him better. Chris said that he saved his life. If it wasn't for him, he'd probably still be drunk in that bar.”

Sherry glanced up when Jake came in and smiled sweetly.

“Welcome back!” She hopped up to her feet and came over to give Jake a tight hug. “I thought you and Leon would kill each other!”

Claire smiled at the hug, getting up from the bed. 

“Hey handsome. I'll give you two a moment alone.” Waving a silent goodbye to Sherry, the auburn haired woman left.

Jake didn't reply to Claire, instead wrapping his arms around his petite blond girlfriend and kissing the top of her head. 

"He wasn't too much trouble... How're you?"

He'd really been worried about staying away for days, and being told that Wesker was out of his cell had set off some anxiety. He'd needed to actually see Sherry to be certain that she was safe. 

“Oh you know. Terrified.” She looked up at him with big blue eyes. “I almost got Wesker – but he's really fast. Like you.” The small woman cringed. “Poor Chris has been wearing a hole in the floor since he left.”

Jake met her eyes and tried not to scowl at being compared to his father. He knew she didn't mean to — it was probably hard not to. Despite his best efforts, he could still feel his brows furrowing. He glanced away so that he didn't look like he was scowling at her, at least, and brought a hand up to touch her face. 

"Yeah...met him on the way in," he admitted. Sherry had chased after Wesker? He was angry just thinking about that. How could the others let her go into a dangerous situation like that? Even with her healing thing, that was...

“Hey.” She placed a hand on his cheek, concerned. “Sorry. I know you don't like it when...sorry.” Sherry sighed and hugged an arm around his neck again, snuggling up against him.

Jake ruffled her hair and forced a smirk, knowing it would affect his tone of voice. 

"It's fine, forget about it," he said as offhandedly as he could. "You sure you're okay, though? He didn't fight you or anything, did he?" He pulled back from the hug enough to put a hand on her shoulder and look her over worriedly.

“No fighting – just a lot of running,” she said in disappointment. “I think the only reason he didn't just sneak out was because he wanted to see the look on Chris's face. You know villains and their monologues.” Sherry frowned suddenly. “Did Leon make it back okay?” 

She really wouldn't put it past the two to get in a fight when left alone. While Leon saw Jake as more of a pesky kid, the redhead seemed to be very jealous of him for no reason at all. She had made an effort not to hug Leon whenever he arrived. That would just be fuel on the flames.

"Nobody got hurt," Jake assured her. He blinked, remembering the pharmacy visit, and added, "I, uh. I got you something while we were out there. For the..." 

He glanced down at her stomach, clearing his throat. They hadn't really talked about the baby much yet. He wasn't sure exactly how to refer to it. It was their kid, but it seemed wrong to just call it 'it'. They didn't know if it was a boy or girl yet, though, or what the name was going to be.

“Baby?” Sherry asked slowly, giggling. “Aw, that's sweet. Is it a diaper bag?”

Jake shook his head, glancing back toward the door. Claire said she'd give them a minute, but apparently she wasn't coming back. 

"Nah, something you can use a little sooner. Baby vitamins," he said, shrugging.

The small blond's eyebrows went up and she stared at him. It was a surprise that Jake would even think of that with everything going on. He was much nicer than he let on. 

“Um, wow Jake. That's actually really awesome.” Sherry leaned up on her toes and kissed him softly. “Thank you.”

She glanced after where Claire had gone and smiled. “He got me vitamins!”

“Aw.” Claire beamed, coming back over with a cup of tea. She nudged the red haired man's arm. “Someone's a big teddy bear.”

Jake shot her a scowl — it was kind of scary how Wesker-like it looked, and Claire certainly had been on the receiving end of the latter's glares plenty of times. 

"Listen, she might be super girl, but that doesn't mean the kid's not plain old human," the redhead grumbled. He looked back to Sherry and the scowl faded away. He sighed. "Did you talk to your brother about Wesker yet?"

“Yep.” Claire sat the cup of tea down next to the bed. “I know Chris is just going to go charging after him.” She sat down again, patting the bed to beckon Sherry back over. “And I'm sure that's exactly what Wesker wants – I just wish Chris could get that.”

“Chris wouldn't do that again, would he?” Sherry asked, plunking down next to her. “Wesker will kill him.”

“Exactly.” Claire sighed hopelessly. “Or just slowly torture him to death in the middle of nowhere where we can't help him.”

The blond looked at her sideways. 

“That's depressing. Jeez.”

Jake crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, looking at the two women grimly. 

"He pretty much said the same thing when I got here. Said if anybody else went out there, that psycho would just torture 'em 'til Redfield showed up, so he was just gonna go."

It was a stupid move, but Jake couldn't really criticize it too much. If Chris stayed put here, Wesker would just come back here, where Sherry and the others were. 

“He said that?” Claire jumped to her feet. “What? When?” Hurrying past Jake, she disappeared down the hall.

Sherry frowned. 

“Don't scare her – she's really worried about him.”

Jake glanced after Claire as she left. 

Looking back to Sherry, he said frankly, "You think I was kidding? I practically quoted him word for word."

Sherry's mouth fell open and she gaped at him. 

“No way!” She darted after Claire. “Chris!”  


* * *

  
He could see all of the base that stuck above the water now. Hopefully, no one had noticed he was gone yet. He only had a few hours of light left and they probably wouldn't come after him after dark. It was worth a shot.

“Hey Chris.” Leon's smooth voice suddenly buzzed in his ear. “You still alive out there?”

He didn't really feel like talking to anybody, but it wouldn't be fair to make his friend worry about him. Not when Leon had not only remained friends with Chris after the whole Wesker conversation, but didn't raise the alarm about him leaving. 

Pausing in his climb up a steep hill with cars rolled over the sides from one of the big explosions that had brought about the state of the world, the brunette punched the button on his earpiece.

"Copy that."

“I'm not sure I should be doing this, but wandering aimlessly isn't going to get you home.” There was some clicking in the background – like a keyboard. “I know where Wesker is.” Leon paused. “Well, was. I called Hunnigan and she was able to find and track him. About two hours ago, our computers lost the signal. You won't believe where he went.”

Chris slumped back against the car door he'd been about to climb over. Leon was helping him? Loyal even if the mission was bound to end badly...that was just like him. 

He pressed the headset button again, speaking quietly. 

"Where do I go?"

“It's an old facility like the one in China. Lava and everything. And...” There was another click. “I'm guessing from the symbol on the roof, it used to be Umbrella's. I think he just went for the nearest one to us – it's not that far away. But you better book it. I don't want to wake up in the morning and see you milling around with the rest of the dead guys.”

Chris frowned and sat up slowly. Wesker had gone back to an Umbrella facility? Even if there was lava there that might be able to kill him, that couldn't be a coincidence. 

"Which way from the base?"

“Just go East for a few miles. It's in a line up of old storage yards. It's the big rusty ugly one. Hunnigan said the zombie population is low around there. I guess there isn't much to eat.” Leon sipped something and swallowed hard. “Ugh. If you see any coffee on the way, would you bring it back?”

There was a boom of thunder overhead. The noise was actually good news – it'd confuse the zombies.

Chris had to smile at that. 

"Leon, if I find coffee, the first cup is reserved for you," he assured the blond, standing up again. Taking a deep breath, he added, "Thank you for doing this. You don't have to, you know."

There was a soft chuckle. 

“Yeah I know.” He sat his cup down again. “I...uh. Hm. Wow.” He cleared his throat. “I don't know how to say this.”

"You're a voice in my ear," Chris reminded him, tapping a different button to keep the comm open without holding any buttons down. Looking over the hillside carefully, he began to climb again. "...And, I just said a lot of stuff YOU probably didn't want to hear. The least I can do is listen if you have something to say." 

“Don't take this the wrong way.” The blond said quietly, his voice losing any sarcasm. “You're really important. To everyone here. To me. We've been fighting this thing since the beginning. The only reason we got this far was because of you – so, just don't go get yourself killed,” he said nervously, adding quickly, “Okay? Please.”

"I don't plan to die, Leon," Chris assured him. "I don't want to, either. But I've gotta do this, or he's never going to stop. You know this all started with him, and it's gonna end with him."

It felt that way to him, anyway. That night in the mansion felt like another lifetime, but he remembered, and he knew that Wesker did, too. It was all about him — all of it. 

Why was Wesker so damn important? Certainly not because he'd tried to make himself that way. Chris had been focusing on him long before he'd tried that insane scheme to attain "godhood."

“Yeah, but does it have to end with you?” Leon asked dubiously. “If I don't hear from you in 24 hours – we're coming after you.”

"No," Chris said firmly. "If you don't hear from me, then everybody stays put and hunkers down. If I don't come back, you're in charge of it all. Remember that you've got women and children to take care of."

It wasn't fair of him and he knew it. The group really did look to him to call the shots on almost everything. He was the only one Wesker seemed to care about, though, so removing himself from the rest of the group was probably safest for them anyway...

“Well, well. You really don't know how to listen, do you Chris?” Wesker's voice hissed in his ear with a crackle.

“Wesker? Chris, are you alright?” Leon yelled, punching buttons on his keyboard noisily.

Wesker's deep voice in his ear sent a tingle down his spine. 

"Wesker!" Chris froze in the middle of reaching for a hand-hold. He probably should've said something more, but at the moment he was too caught off-guard. 

Of course Wesker could figure out their radio channel — he'd been in their damned base, using the computer, and he was a genius. WHY he was talking to Chris, though...

“Mr. Kennedy. If you take so much as a single step after us, I will kill everyone in that base. Everyone,” Wesker added softly. Chris could hear the smirk on his lips. “Now. Say goodbye.”

But Leon didn't reply. There was only the sound of a clicking keyboard.

"What do you want, Wesker? Why not talk to me face to face?" Chris asked, gritting his teeth. He knew that Leon wouldn't do anything to endanger the others if he could help it, but threatening them — especially his sister, Sherry and her baby — made him angry. 

Maybe Wesker didn't know about the baby. Hopefully not, actually, considering who the father was.

“Chris, don't – ” Leon abruptly went quiet and Wesker sighed.

“Much better,” the blond said. “Now Chris. Where were we? Ah yes – you want to meet me face to face. Turn around.”

Chris blinked, the words still sinking in. He was climbing up a hillside of cars, and he hadn't seen anybody else during the entire trip... Punching the off button for the headset, he turned his back to the car he was climbing, leaning back against the dented door. 

Perfectly silent, Wesker was perched on one of the cars that he had climbed over not even two minutes ago. The tall blond was knelt down like he had just landed, and was watching Chris without moving.

Chris stared back at him, knowing the eyes behind the black lenses were focused on his own. He wanted to say something, but no words were coming to him. 

Why did the image of Wesker from his dream choose now to stick in his mind? Blue-eyed and smiling, his blond hair glinting in the sunlight. Nothing like the ominous figure before him in the black coat, his eyes smoldering a little too red for the shades to disguise.

That other Wesker was a fantasy, plain and simple.

Wesker stood up, towering over Chris on top of the car. He stepped lightly off of it and closed some of the distance between them. As he stopped, he frowned. 

“Why did you follow me here? Are you really that dumb?”

He kept about six feet between them and began to pace around Chris, watching him intently.

Chris followed him with his eyes, but didn't move a muscle. He didn't speak, either. He couldn't. Wesker was right there...why did that stun him all of a sudden? Wesker had been right in front of him for a long time now, in his cell. 

He'd been disheveled, though, a worn and faded version of his former self. The man circling around his perch like some incredibly handsome shark was pure Wesker if Chris had ever seen him. He looked perfect — his hair sleek and flattened back from his face, the sunglasses and stoic look firmly in place and the trench coat swishing behind him like a super villain's cape. 

“Or did you come to make sure I finished the job?” The circling man paused, stepping closer. The sun was starting to hang low and didn't help make Wesker look any less frightening. He tilted his head at Chris. “Did you come to push me in?” Again, he stepped closer.

Chris blinked as Wesker got closer, taking in every detail of his face, the way his eyes glowed a little in the dimming light...his lips when he spoke. 

He remembered his conversation with Leon, and wondered if he'd really lost his mind. Why had he said those things? Why was he out here with Wesker right now? ...Was Leon right, did he and Wesker have some kind of relationship they just hadn't really acknowledged for all of these years?

He tilted his head and raised a hand, waving for Wesker to move closer.

But the blond froze, eying Chris with sudden curiosity. From what Chris could tell from behind the sunglasses, he may have actually surprised his long time rival. “Chris, I don't have time to play games with you right now.” He looked the brunette up and down. “Sadly.”

"Why?" Chris broke his silence finally, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from Wesker and focusing on the sun dipping below the horizon behind him. He sighed a little, feeling tired. 

"...Is there some countdown? Let me guess...the world's ending again? All these years and you don't have time to talk to me now."

“Sarcasm.” Wesker turned his back on Chris, walking casually away. “Go back to your little bunker and stay there. We are done.”

Chris looked after him, and wondered why that pang in his chest was setting in the same as it had done in the dream.

"I can't," he said quietly, sitting down on the hood of the car he'd been climbing. He leaned back against the wall and sighed. Why couldn't he just talk right now? It felt like somebody was choking him.

“Then you leave me no choice.” Spinning to face him, Wesker was gone in an instant – reappearing beside Chris, his gloved fingers spread across the muscular man's chin. “We'll have to discuss this later.”

With one swift motion, Chris felt a surge of pain across his temple and then he was tangled in something, his face covered in cloth. It all happened so fast that he didn't have time to register the cloth against his face — he was still flinching from the sudden strike to his head. The tangled feeling hit next, and suddenly he was struggling to get out of whatever was wrapped around him. 

Bedsheets? He was sitting in the middle of a large plush bed, a wad of white sheets tangled up next to him. As well as a very concerned and half-asleep Wesker behind him. 

“What? Are you all right?” He wrapped a hand around Chris's chest and kissed his cheek, shushing him. “It's okay – it's just the alarm.”

He leaned over the confused brunette and punched the alarm's button. Chris hadn't even heard it go off.

The brunette sat up quickly, gasping for breath and his heart thudding in his chest. He was...this was the apartment from the dream. Was he dreaming the same dream again? No, he'd awakened at a desk last time... 

He looked down in confusion at Wesker, who was pretty much draped over his lap since Chris had moved to sit up while the blond was leaning over him. 

Shirtless. Actually, both of them were shirtless. 

Jesus.

Wesker sat back up, gently sliding up beside Chris to kiss him briefly. “Let me guess...More bad dreams about me?” He asked sadly, crystal blue eyes meeting Chris's.

Chris looked at him sadly, disoriented all over again. It felt real — just as real as things had felt a minute ago when he'd been talking to Wesker on the hillside with the cars. This Wesker seemed just as vivid — more vivid, the warmth of his skin pressed right to Chris's side, firm muscles, the feel of him breathing.

Being kissed.

Chris bit his lip and turned toward the blond, hugging him close. 

"I-it's not your fault," he said, muffled slightly by the taller man's shoulder where he was hiding his face. "This's..." It was cruel, that's what it was. His mind was playing a sick game with him, knowing he had nothing like this in real life and giving him a taste of what it was like in his dreams.

“I still feel bad,” Wesker whispered, laying them back down on the bed. He sat up and smiled down at the brunette man. “I want you to dream about good things. Like toast and coffee...and bacon.” The blue eyed man smiled warmly, leaning in to kiss him again. It was all a little overwhelming. Wesker broke the kiss with a wide smile. “I'll go make you some.”

Chris reached to run his fingers through the blond's hair and looked up at him, torn between trying to explain or going for it and kissing the hell out of him in return. He WAS dreaming of good things — he was dreaming of them right this second. And as impossible as they were, he wanted this kind of closeness so much that it ached.

With Wesker. ONLY with Wesker. Why Wesker? 

"Don't," he said, swallowing hard. "Stay here, I-I don't want you to go."

Wesker's smile faded and he frowned. 

“They WERE about me.” With a growl, he crawled out of bed. “There must be therapy for this kind of thing! First Piers and now you. I don't understand it.” He perched on the bedside and sat his head in his hands.

Chris pushed himself up with his arms, crawling to the side of the bed where Wesker was. 

"No, no..." 

He wanted to put his arms around the blond's waist, but this felt like a moment to be more gentle. He placed his hands onto Wesker's bare shoulders and ran them slowly down onto his arms, leaning up against his back. 

"You left," he whispered near the blond man's ear. "I dreamed that you left."

Wesker shifted to look up at Chris and sigh deeply. He took the brunette's hand and ran his thumb over the wedding band. 

“You know I never will.” His husband stared up at him evenly. “I know this seems stupid.” He shook his head, causing a few pieces of his usually slicked back hair to fall free. “It's just been going on for so long...there has to be a reason.”

“Dad?” Came a small voice from across the room. The bedroom door pushed open and large gray eyes peered shyly at them. “Dad, can I have eggs?” Piers stared at Chris in particular.

Wesker glanced up at Chris and shook his head. 

“Just have some cereal.”

Piers silently looked at Wesker, eyebrows saddening.

Chris squeezed the blond's hand and glanced over at Piers. 

"We'll come make you guys breakfast soon," he promised. "Daddy and I have to talk some more first, though. Why don't you go check and see if Jake's feeling better today?"

Now that he knew Wesker was so aware of Piers being afraid of him, he felt bad that the little boy wouldn't even speak to the blond. One had to wonder why his mind would paint such a perfect little family arrangement and then tear a big hole in the middle like this.

“Jake threw his bear at me!” Piers frowned. “He said he isn't getting up today!”

Wesker was about to reply, but decided to leave it to Chris. The toddler seemed to be talking more to him, anyway. 

Chris sighed and moved to hang his legs over the side of the bed. 

"Hey, c'mere." He held out a hand to the little boy, smiling at him. He just couldn't get over how bittersweet it was to see Piers again, even a tiny toddler version of him. 

Maybe Piers would approach Wesker if Chris was right there.

Piers stared at the offered hand, then to Wesker and then to the hand again. 

“Why? Am I in trouble?”

Chris blinked and stepped down from the bed, sitting on the floor so that he didn't look so tall. 

"I promise you're not," he told Piers, smiling again. 

The toddler came a few steps closer and then dove into Chris's arms, hugging his tiny arms around the large man's neck.

Chris let out the breath he'd been holding and wrapped his arms around the kid, cuddling him close. He really was tiny — but somehow still Piers. There went the disorientation again. 

"I missed ya since I saw you last," he told the boy, patting his back. He glanced up at Wesker as he spoke, wishing he could mend the situation with the two of them so easily.

The blue eyed man was watching quietly from the bed. His expression was somber. 

“I'll make you some eggs,” Wesker said quietly, getting up and heading out to the living room.

Piers watched him go, still holding tightly onto Chris.

Chris watched, too. Then he closed his eyes and rested his cheek against Piers' hair. 

"Hey...you have anymore dreams that are bugging you?" He asked gently.

“The crying people,” Piers said meekly. He shivered in Chris's arms. “I don't want to sleep. Daddy will be there!” The little boy's eyes started to tear up.

Wesker glanced back inside from the hall before turning and going.

"Hey, hey...they're just dreams," Chris said, rubbing the kid's back in what he hoped was a soothing way. Poor Wesker — Chris hadn't known about Piers' nightmares when he'd chosen to describe his real life encounters with the man as "bad dreams", and now it looked like half of the family had nightmares about him.

"Piers, you know Daddy would never really hurt you — right?" He asked the little boy worriedly. "He loves you, just like I do."

“But...” Piers sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with a free hand. He stared at Chris for a long moment. Looking after Wesker, he didn't seem convinced. “I guess so.” He turned back to Chris and frowned. “I don't like it when he gets mad...captain.”

'Captain'. Chris blinked, hit with an unexpected wave of guilt at Piers calling him that again. That's right, he'd been responsible for Piers when he'd gone to his death...though not before having horrible things happen to him, like getting an arm ripped off. This Piers couldn't understand why that made him guilty, though.

He ruffled the little boy's unruly hair, smiling sadly. 

"I know. He doesn't mean to scare you, though. Even if he gets mad, Piers, he'd never hurt you."

“Captain!” Piers grabbed his arm – much tighter than a little kid could managed. His large gray eyes were wide. “Wake up!”

Chris's eyes snapped open. He was laying on his back on a very hard and very cold floor. The ceiling above him was white but looked old – with a few spots of grit and spider webs.

“Captain, say something!” A desperate hand yanked on his wrist just like in the dream, fingers pinching his skin.

“Piers,” Chris said, still disoriented by the abrupt change of scenery. He wondered if one could get mental whiplash from passing out and waking up too fast to follow what was happening. Then his head throbbed for the first time, and he groaned, moving a hand up to press to his temple. There was definitely a lump there. 

“Thank god.” Piers sighed heavily, the hand on his wrist loosening. “How's your head?”

"I'll live, it's not..." Chris blinked and trailed off, realizing that the voice speaking to him didn't sound like a small child anymore. He sat up quickly, ignoring even the throbbing in his head to turn and try to see the source. 

From the cell next door, a pair of hazy gray eyes stared back at him. It was Piers – but the right side of his face was red like it had been burned. As was his right hand, which had strangely long fingers wrapped tightly around the thick metal bars that separated their cells. He looked at Chris worriedly. 

“It's bleeding, captain.”

Chris ignored the comment, staring at him in half-confusion, half-disbelief. 

"Am I still asleep?" He asked uneasily, reaching up to feel the lump on his head. Sure enough, his fingers touched warm, sticky wetness. He lowered his hand and glanced at the bit of blood on it, but promptly looked back to his old partner afterward.

One didn't usually feel pain in dreams...right? That was why you pinched yourself to see if you were awake. Then again, maybe that other place was the dream, and this was the nightmare side of things...

“You're awake,” Piers assured him, retrieving his hand and smiling a bit. His eyes were locked on Chris and he shook his head. “You're...you're alive.” He laughed shakily, running a hand over his mouth. “I thought I died.”

Chris tilted his head, looking the other man's face and hands over again with a bit more attention this time. His face and hand were burnt-looking where the J'avo parts of him had been when Chris saw him last...but how was that possible?

It took about two seconds for the brunette to realize that he didn't really care. He crawled over next to the bars and reached a hand through, offering it to Piers. 

"I-I thought so, too," he said heavily. "You're the reason I made it."

Surprised, the younger man took his hand and shook it. 

“I...it's good to see you made it.” His smile faded a bit and he looked up at Chris through the bars, scanning his face over. He seemed a little confused, himself. “Wesker found me,” he said slowly, slipping his hand out of Chris's. 

Chris gripped the nearest bars with his hand and nodded, still watching him. It was so unreal to have Piers here, talking and moving and ALIVE, that he wasn't sure how to process it. He wanted to be happy about it, but he'd just been hit in the head, and he'd been dreaming of strange alternate versions of people, so he was hesitant to believe his own eyes and ears.

"Have you been stuck here this whole time?" He asked Piers quietly.

“Only for a couple weeks, captain.” Piers sat back on his hands. “I was on my way back to you guys – well, where I thought you were.” He shrugged. “But I...I had time to think about it.” The young man placed a hand on his right arm and frowned sadly. “I'm one of them, sir. I can't live with that.” He took a breath to steady himself and leaned his head against the bars, gray eyes looking nowhere. “He stopped me from jumping in – “

“Only because I thought you were Chris,” Wesker cut in, stepping lightly up to the outside of Piers' cell. “But we'll have time for all that later.” The ominous man punched a few keys on the cell's lock and the door opened. 

Staying close to the back of the cell, Piers watched him intently.

Chris pushed himself to his feet, hoping nobody noticed the wince that accompanied it. 

"Wesker...! What're you doing with him?" He asked, still holding onto the bars. He hated to admit it, but his balance was off — holding on was the only way he wasn't falling over. Great.

Wesker glanced his way, but he didn't reply. 

“Do we always have to do this the hard way?” He circled around Piers much like a shark, chin low and smug smile on his lips.

Piers stood up, too, pushing off of the bars. He was barely able to keep himself standing as he straightened his back to face off with Wesker. 

“Yes.”

Chris frowned. 

"Do what? I-if you know he's NOT me, why keep him here?" 'Always' implied they'd been in this situation before numerous times.

“Stay out of this, Chris.” Wesker hissed, closing in on the smaller man. Without hesitation, Piers bent and took a swing at Wesker's stomach. The eerie blond caught his fist with ease. He shook his head, pushing the brunette down to the ground with his arm. “Really. It's pathetic.”

Landing on his knees, Piers struggled to loosen Wesker's grip hopelessly. He suddenly paused and squeezed his eyes shut, spreading the fingers of his captured arm.

“None of that!” Wesker growled, twisting his captive's arm around behind his back. “Behave yourself.”

"Piers...just don't," Chris said, gritting his teeth. "You're making it worse." It took a lot of effort not to try to charge right through the bars, common sense and head injury be damned, but he was pretty sure Wesker wasn't actually going to hurt Piers. 

The man had superhuman speed and strength enough to tear someone limb from limb, but he was only restraining the younger man, and somewhat carefully. Why, though? 

Piers stopped struggling as much and looked at Chris angrily. Wesker took advantage of the calm in the storm and yanked Piers toward the door. The younger man tried to turn out of his grasp but failed.

“Captain! You have to get out of here!” With a sneer, the tall blond grabbed a handful of Piers' hair and shoved him out of the door. Piers toppled over, still fighting Wesker's lead.

“Stop being so dramatic.” He kept a firm grip on the arm he had grabbed initially, now dragging the fallen man down the hall.

Chris couldn't see much past the edge of his cell as they disappeared out of another door placed at the end of the hallway. He was alone again.


	4. Piers

“Jake!” The tall blond ex-agent came swooping around the corner into the bedrooms. Leon paused briefly in the doorway, waving to Wesker's son. “We need to talk. Right now. Privately.” He walked off before Jake could reply from where he was cleaning his gun.

The redhead looked after him until he was out of sight before finally placing the gun aside — very carefully — and starting after. After the subject of the conversation with Claire and Sherry, he figured Leon was going to have something to say about Chris. Probably wasn't going to be good news, either...

Leon was waiting for him quietly in one of the small rooms they used as offices and storage. He looked up as Jake came in and slipped around him to close the door. He came back to stand in front of the young man, looking directly at him. 

“I know I can't make you do this, but I have to at least ask.” 

Jake glanced at the door as casually as he could when Leon closed it, crossing his arms. Oh, boy, here they went. 

"Talking about Redfield's stupid plans to Sherry, probably not the best move," the redhead admitted, frowning and turning back to face Leon. "Or Claire. They're gonna find out either way, though — I'm not gonna lie to them."

Leon squared up his shoulders. 

“Chris saved your butt back in China – he needs you to do the same for him.” He pulled a small bag off of his shoulder and offered it to Jake. “He went out there to find your dad and Wesker found him first. The bastard said that if I try to help Chris, he'll kill everyone here.” His eyebrows lowered. “He'll probably do it anyway when he's done with Chris...”

As Leon's brows furrowed, Jake's rose — not just in surprise, but in bemusement. He tilted his head and leaned to look at the bag dubiously. 

"...You really think he'll take it any different if it's ME showing up instead of you?" 

He didn't want to do it. He wanted nothing to do with Wesker, and the last thing he wanted was to leave Sherry unguarded and go out there alone. 

Not that he was afraid of going outside alone — he was a damned mercenary, he was used to that. But if Wesker would attack the base one way or the other, Sherry was in more danger from that. Stupid Redfield and his stupid 'I've got to go out there myself, alone' move. What was that supposed to accomplish, anyway?

“Yeah, actually.” Leon smirked a little in return. “While he was here, he could ignore you, but in his secret lab, not so much.” The blond's smile faded. “If you don't want to go, just say so. I'll just do it.” He slung the bag back over his shoulder. “Without Chris here, Wesker has no reason not to sink this rust bucket.”

"With Sherry and our kid inside," Jake concluded, scowling. "What do you want me to do, exactly? If a volcano didn't get rid of him, somehow I don't think punching him in the face is gonna cut it." Or bullets — he'd heard stories from the others about Wesker catching rockets fired at him out of the air. 

“I don't want you to fight him. Just get Chris out of there,” Leon said quietly. “Sneak in, grab him and run. If you see Wesker, well...it's your call.”

"You think Wesker's gonna be anywhere except next to Chris? Redfield," Jake corrected himself, frowning. He'd stubbornly refused to call Chris by his first name since they'd moved into the base. For some reason, it felt okay to call Leon by his first name, but not Chris. Maybe because he was the unofficial leader around here.

“I've had Hunnigan watch the base since Chris disappeared. She can tell when he leaves.” Leon pulled open the bag and took out a little cell phone. At least, that's what it looked like. “You can just wait until he leaves. She said he seems to do it every couple hours.” He offered the little device to Jake, trying to ignore how irritated the redhead looked. Going himself would just mean another body on the pile, but Jake might be able to at least escape Wesker if they ran into each other.

Jake looked at the cell phone and frowned, holding out his hand. 

"If that freak tortures Redfield, he might figure out about the baby," he said flatly. "So I'll go see what I can do. Sherry's not gonna like this."

“I'll keep Sherry with me in the comm room until you get back,” Leon said, dropping the mapping device into Jake's hand. “Just come back in one piece – that kid's gonna need you, too.”

Jake closed his fingers around the device and turned his back, stepping toward the door. 

"If it wasn't for her and the kid, I wouldn't even be doin' this," he said grimly. "And once Redfield's back here, we're gonna have a little chat."  


* * *

  
It was vague at first. Warm, softness under his head. Bright lighting around him. Then slowly Chris felt himself blink and as his eyes opened, he saw Wesker leaned over him. Kissing him.

“I've got to go to work. Jake is sleeping – you only have one monster to deal with right now.” The handsome blond smiled, sitting up and adjusting his tie. It was silky and black. Somehow, Chris recalled the texture of it like he had touched it before.

Wesker? Chris blinked, disoriented. He was in a bed, not a cell. His head didn't hurt...and Wesker wasn't wearing his shades. The memories of Wesker and Piers were still fresh in his mind, and he felt like a traitor for still enjoying that kiss. Despite everything, being kissed by Wesker felt perfectly normal, like no cause for alarm whatsoever.

Without thinking about it too much, he reached up and felt the silk texture of the blond's tie, looking at it sadly. 

"Okay." Why was he disappointed that Wesker wouldn't be around this time in the dream? 

“Don't make that face – you'll break my heart.” The other man smiled down at him, blue eyes surprisingly warm. “It's only for a few hours. And coffee's ready when you feel like rolling out of bed.” 

Chris blinked and sat up abruptly, turning to pull the blond into his arms. 

"Hey...I-I want to say something." 

Did he feel dizzy because of the head injury? But his head didn't hurt... 

Wesker hugged him in return, a bit surprised. He squeezed the brunette gently and smiled. 

“I'm all ears.”

"You're great," Chris said quietly, squeezing him more tightly in return. He closed his eyes. Was this what hugging the real Wesker would feel like, or just what he imagined it would be like? "Don't think for a second that I blame you for anything from some nightmare, okay? That's...that's another you entirely." 

Wesker leaned his head against Chris's neck and remained quiet for a moment. With a sigh, he sat up to look at his husband. 

“What kind of me is it?” He looked into Chris's eyes intently, as if trying to read his mind.

The brunette looked back sadly, wondering how he could possibly explain. 

"He's...twisted," he said finally. "And he wants to die. And somehow, I-I think I still love him past all that." 

He brought a hand up to rub his forehead, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. First dizzy, now exhausted. He certainly didn't feel right. And he'd said 'love', hadn't he? "I wish I could talk to him like I can talk to you."

Wesker stared at him glumly. 

“Have you ever tried?” He shook his head. “I guess it doesn't matter really.” Crawling out of Chris's arms, he stood up. “You have me.” Smoothing out his tie and blazer, the blood sighed. “I'll be back as soon as I can be, but I really have to go. I'm late.” Leaning in for one last kiss, the blond turned and left.

His head throbbed as he watched the blond go. It felt like someone was pushing on it – or something. The white ceiling above the bed changed in the blink of an eye – to yet another white ceiling. But this one was metal.

"Wait — Wesker!" Chris winced as his head throbbed, only confused for a split-second before he realized that he must be awake again now. Or was he sleeping in that other world, and this was the dream? Either way, he felt sort of sick. 

Wesker sat back at bit from leaning over Chris, eyebrows arched in surprise. They weren't in the cells anymore, but some kind of examination room. Not exactly where Chris wanted to be. The blond man sat down the blood stained swab and stared down at Chris from behind his shades curiously. 

“Yes?”

Chris turned his head and stared at Wesker, torn between being angry about the situation with Piers and sad that he really couldn't have a conversation with the blond like he could with the dream version. 

In the end, he could feel his brows furrowing in a troubled way, and he shut his mouth and said absolutely nothing in reply.

Tilting his head, Wesker continued to stare at him for a second before returning to treating Chris's head. “Your head is softer than I remember.” He was surprisingly gentle with the swab, probably just to avoid having it bleed more though. He hadn't bothered to restrain Chris, and didn't seem too worried that he was awake now.

Chris looked up at the ceiling. 

"You didn't have to do this," he said, coughing slightly. His throat felt dry...but damn did even the smallest cough make his head throb. "D-didn't even occur to you to ask me to come back with you..."

Wesker opened his mouth to reply, but closed it. Silently, he picked out several butterfly bandages from the large first aid kit sitting on the floor. He pulled off his gloves. 

“You shouldn't have followed me.” He said at last, pressing cold fingers against Chris's forehead to smooth the bandages in place. “You were safe where you were.”

“I had to.” The brunette was watching his hands rather than his face, still frowning. He didn't want to be safe — he wanted the others to be safe. And whenever one of them tried to run the other would always follow, so confronting Wesker would have happened sooner or later. He'd chosen sooner.

Wesker dropped his hands to rest on the table, shaking his head at Chris. 

“No, you didn't. I was going to kill myself – end this.” He gestured between himself and Chris with a graceful hand. Since he had his gloves off, Chris could see just how pale his skin actually was. It was bloodless and scarred, the skin looking like it had been punctured all over — no doubt by Uroboros. 

Chris glanced up at him briefly, his frown deepening. 

"Maybe that'd end it for you," he said heavily. It surprised him to realize that he wouldn't be happy or even relieved if Wesker actually did die. Maybe that was the weird dreams speaking?

The blond watched him silently for a moment, red eyes reading his features curiously.

“It doesn't matter now. Things have changed.”

The brunette slipped into a resigned type of expression, staring at him. 

"Right. I guess you're gonna kill me now or something," he said evenly. He wanted to ask about Piers, but at the same time, what was the point? It wasn't like Wesker was going to do anything differently if Chris asked him to nicely.

The blond laughed. It sounded so creepy, it sent a sudden chill up Chris's spine. This was definitely NOT the Wesker in his dream. 

“Of course not, Chris.” Wesker reached over and gently patted the muscular man's arm. “No, no. I thought that I was going to kill myself.” He turned and paced a few steps away, his black boots making that familiar sound. “But now I have you...and the little you.” Turning back to look at Chris, Wesker smiled slowly. “I'm going to fix him, Chris – I've already made progress.”

"Piers?" Chris sat up, ignoring his head's throbbing in protest. He couldn't help wincing a bit, but frowned after the blond. "Why? What do you get out of 'fixing' him?"

Wesker's smile faded and he moved closer again, leaning his hands on the bed. For just an instant, Chris thought he saw Wesker searching for words – like he hadn't expected the question at all. But he recovered and smiled tightly. 

“Well. You'll have to wait and see.”

Chris frowned at him. He was up close again, close enough to see the red eyes behind their dark lenses. Chris still almost saw the crystal blue ones for a second each time he looked before reality intervened.

He blinked a few times, trying to clear that thought out of his head. He wasn't in love with Wesker. He wasn't married to Wesker. In real life, he wasn't even a captain anymore, he was just kind of here. The world from the start of all this was long gone, and he was beginning to wonder why he and Wesker were still hanging around. 

"Why should I?" He asked quietly. "You know, you're not the only one who's tired, Wesker." 

Wesker rubbed his fingers along his forehead and sighed. 

“You're right. I am tired.” He stared up at Chris and shook his head, speaking softly. “I don't want to fight you anymore. I just want to...” The blond stopped mid sentence and backed away, shaking his head again. “I can't do this. It's pointless. The result will be the same – why wait?” 

He continued to shake his head, clutching his palms to his temples and backing toward the door. “Go home... Leave me be!” In one smooth motion, he turned and stepped straight through the closed door – actually stumbling as he disappeared into the hall.

"Wesker!" Result? Was he talking about killing himself? 

Unsure why that bothered him, Chris dragged himself out of bed and started after the blond. His head responded with throbbing pain, but he wasn't so dizzy anymore, and he stayed on his feet. Pain he could handle. 

If anything, Wesker's reaction reassured him that he was right to come out here. It wasn't just him — Wesker was tired of fighting, too. They were both tired, so why couldn't they let any of this rest?

As he stepped out to the hall, he saw that Wesker hadn't made it very far. The eerie man was at the far end of the blank white hallway, leaned against the wall and doubled over. He hadn't replaced his gloves before leaving and Chris could see his marble white hands twitching at his sides. 

Chris had spent too many years fighting B.O.W.s not to have at least a little tingle of alarm go off in his head at the turned back and twitching fingers. Still, he approached slowly and reached to put a hand on the blond's back. 

“No!” Wesker yelled, turning around in an instant. Both of his palms contacted with Chris's chest – knocking the air out of his lungs and sending him flying backwards back down the hall.

As his head contacted with the hard floor, he caught a glimpse of Wesker's face. He looked horrified. Chris felt a stinging in his lungs before his eyes fell closed.

Crying. A child crying.

  


* * *

  


Sneaking in was a piece of cake. The power was out in most of the facility and whatever was on apparently wasn't being watched by anyone. Most of the halls were bright white – much like the facility Jake and Sherry had been imprisoned in for months in China. 

He hadn't seen Wesker leave on the device Leon gave him, but he had waited for hours. Wesker was probably done doing whatever he wanted to to Chris. He couldn’t wait around anymore.

A large gray metal door came into view as the young man made his way down one of the many hallways. It had large red letters across the front that said “ _091._ ” A lab room most likely. It was very noticeable because it was the only thing he had seen with color.

 _091._ That didn't seem significant, but the color did. It was silly, but the color red just reminded him of 'Redfield'. However he justified it, he cautiously made his way to the door to see if it was locked.

Despite the door being huge, it pushed open lightly at his touch. The room inside was packed with lab equipment and he couldn't see past the pile near the door. It looked like the back of a bunch of computers, with large cables winding out around it.

The redhead glanced first for any security cameras. Finding none pointed at the door, he slipped carefully into the room without opening the door fully, glancing around. This place looked like a lab more than any kind of cell.

Once he was inside, he could see a bit of what was in the center of the room. A set of bare feet. Laying on top of an exam table. That couldn't be good.

He froze...and listened. The place looked medical, but he hadn't expected any bodies to be there. The question was, was it a human body or a B.O.W.?

He could just make out the sound of someone breathing softly like they were sleeping — but it stopped abruptly.

“Hello?” A voice said very hazily. It was male, and sounded vaguely familiar, but it certainly wasn't Chris's.

Jake's brows rose. He took a step or two closer, leaning to look sideways to the body on the table so that he could get a glimpse of the face. That was no zombie. Zombies didn't talk.

Strapped down to the table was a young man. He was looking at Jake with sleepy pale gray eyes. It took Jake a second to remember his face, but he realized it was the guy who had been following Redfield around six months ago during his BSAA missions. Piers?

“You? You're w-working with Wesker now?” The prisoner asked slowly, eyebrows lowering unhappily. A jagged part of the right side of his face looked slightly darker than the rest – like it had been tanned. Jake also took note that he wasn't wearing very much – just a pair of all too familiar white pants. He squirmed in the restraints, clenching his teeth at Jake. “Traitor!”

Jake stepped closer to the bed and leaned to look at his face, arching an eyebrow. It probably didn't help him look any less like Wesker, but he couldn't help it. 

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" He asked, frowning.

The only response he got was a blob of spit hitting him in the eye.

Slapping a hand over the eye in question, the redhead swiped the spit off and growled, "FINE, maybe I WON'T save your ass along with Redfield's!"

Piers flinched. He couldn't exactly go anywhere, though, and settled for turning his head away. As soon as Jake's words registered, he turned back and stared up at him. 

“What?” 

The look was so intense, Jake felt it very hard to look away. The man on the table had soft light gray eyes and very dark eyelashes – which made for a startling combination when his eyes were wide open. The young man took a few breaths and finally stammered, “If y-you're...help Chris?” Again, he twisted his wrists in his straps. “Please help him – I think Wesker's gonna kill him!”

Jake blinked, taken aback by the stare. Since when did he stop and notice some other guy's eyes, anyway? Giving himself a little mental slap to wake up, the redhead frowned and leaned to start unfastening the straps on Piers' wrists and ankles.

"You saw Redfield? How long ago?"

Piers leaned back against the bed. 

“I-I don't know. Wesker gave me something and I passed out for awhile.” As soon as he was free from the restraints, he slid off the bed to his feet. Or, that's what Jake assumed would happen. As soon as the brunette's weight was on his feet, his legs buckled, and he flopped flat onto the floor. Like a sack of potatoes.

In a split-second, the redhead went from standing by the bed to kneeling to turn the smaller man over. 

"Hey, easy! You ain't exactly ready to run a marathon," he said pointedly, but he actually looked a little concerned.

Slipping an arm under the brunette's back, Jake lifted him up into a sitting position and promptly put two fingers to his neck, feeling for his pulse. Did he lose some blood? Was he drugged up? Did he HAVE a pulse?

This guy reminded him of Redfield a little bit, but there were definitely some differences. For one, Piers was a lot smaller and shorter than Chris, and he looked closer to Jake's age. 

“What...are you doing?” Pushing his hand away, Piers slung an arm over Jake's neck and pushed himself up. He stood up unsteadily, hand latched onto the redhead's shoulder for support. “Come on. We have to find him.” He rubbed his head with his free hand and cringed. “Oh god. My head.” Taking a wobbly step toward the door, he waved Jake after him. “Hurry up.”

Jake grumbled and stepped along, shaking his head slightly. 

"You can barely stand up — if we run into that freak you're gonna be a liability," he said flatly, steering them down the hallway toward the entrance. "I'll come back for him."

“No way!” Piers yelled, spinning to face Jake. The world spun too and he grabbed onto the other man's shirt to keep from falling over. “We're getting him NOW!” He demanded, pressing his hand to his head again.

Out of reflex, Jake grabbed both of his shoulders, too. 

"LISTEN, Piers," he hissed, keeping his voice low in case Wesker was anywhere nearby. "If I take you along you'll get in my way — I'm fast enough to dodge that psycho's moves, but NOT while hauling some injured guy along." 

He was still kind of surprised at himself that he remembered the shorter man's name. They had only met briefly. Chris did talk about him, though, occasionally. 

Strangely enough, Piers wrapped his arm around Jake's neck and leaned his head on the tall man's shoulder. He sighed heavily, all anger fading away. 

“Fine,” the small man said reluctantly. “But, I'll go by myself.” He stepped back and leaned against the wall. “You go help Chris.”

Jake watched him critically for a minute, seeing how well he was managing to support his own weight. Not very; from the looks of it, the wall was doing most of the supporting.

"The plan was never to go fight Wesker head on," he muttered, pulling the little smartphone-looking device out of his pocket. "I've got a tracker that tells me when he's home. I was gonna wait until he left and THEN come in here and bust Redfield out. Only he hasn't left."

“Let me...see.” Piers held out his hand to Jake, fighting not to slide down the wall. His forehead was beginning to sweat from the strain. 

Jake handed the device over without making a fuss. From the looks of it, the guy was going to collapse any minute, so he could just take it back then. As inconspicuously as he could, he inched a bit closer and looked Piers over for any visible injuries. Hey, the man wasn't wearing a shirt or any shoes — injuries should be easy to spot, right? 

The only noticeable thing he spotted was the dark tan scar that marbled the right side of Piers' body. It led up his neck like a vine and spread out around his right eye. Otherwise it was mostly on his shoulder, but then trailed down his side disappearing under the elastic of his pants. Jake vaguely recalled mention of Piers being infected with the C-virus. 

“What are you staring at?” The small man asked, glancing at Jake and shaking his head. 

"You," Jake retorted bluntly, crossing his arms and straightening up. He frowned. "...You're pretty sane for a J'avo. And not as ugly as the others I've met, either."

“Um. Thanks,” Piers said, looking back at the scanner shyly. The gray eyed man seemed awkward all of a sudden. He cleared his throat. “Look. Wesker's not far from here – I'll bet he's with Chris.” He shoved the device back at Jake, trying very hard to find a handhold on the smooth wall.

Jake took the scanner back, but his blue eyes were still focused on Piers.

“How long have you been here? Redfield thought you died.” He was in no hurry to run off and confront Wesker, whether Chris was getting himself killed or not. Fighting his father head-on was asking to lose, and even sneaking Chris out was a tall order.

Piers' pale eyes flicked down the hall impatiently but he seemed to realize that Jake might want some answers first. 

“Awhile. I...don't know exactly how long, but Wesker would be gone for a really long time. My best guess would be around a month.” As he spoke, he slowly slid down the wall – forehead damp with sweat. “But before that we met here. I woke up washed up somewhere and came this way.”

Giving up on the wall at last, he slapped a hand onto Jake's shoulder to stay on his feet. The brunette cleared his throat and continued. 

“I fixed a radio I found on a dead soldier and followed the signal this way. After some survivors shot at me...well.” Piers shook his head. “I didn't want to be a zombie anymore. I didn't want Chris to have to deal with it either, so I came here.” He gestured tiredly to the facility around them. “Then Wesker found me.”

“My arm,” He held up his right hand and stared at the fingers, “It wasn't like this until Wesker got a hold of me.” The shorter man looked up at Jake, frowning. “That guy is losing it. One second, he's talking like he wants to help me for no reason – then he's off on a rant about how he wants to die.” Piers placed his second hand on Jake's shoulder and sighed.

Jake listened with a small frown fixed in place, glancing down at Piers' hand when he commented on it. When the other hand grabbed his shoulder, too, the redhead glanced quickly up and down the hallway to be sure that nobody was coming...and then took hold of both of Piers' hands and pushed him back to the wall. 

He'd really just meant to prop him up, but MIGHT have pushed a bit too hard; the brunette wound up with his back pressed there. 

Piers just stared at him wide eyed, cheeks darkening slightly. “Wha-what are you doing?” He leaned back stiffly against the wall, putting as much distance as he could between them – which wasn't much.

Seeing his expression, the tall man arched an eyebrow and stepped back, shaking his head slightly. 

"Jeez, try not to look so into it. I've got a girlfriend." He held up a gloved hand. "Just...just lean there a sec, okay? I'll loan you my shirt." 

Without waiting for a response, he slipped his jacket off and started to pull the black T-shirt under it off over his head. 

The brunette sat against the wall, still staring but this time more accusingly. 

“Hey. After your dad's obsession with Captain Redfield, I was a little worried. He said I reminded him of Chris.” Piers looked down the hall again, more to NOT be looking at Jake than anything it seemed. “We really should be hurrying. Who knows what he's gonna do to him...”

"Yeah. Do me a favor and don't ever assume I'LL do something just because my psycho dad does. Okay?" Jake grumbled, turning to him with the T-shirt in one hand. This place was actually pretty damn cold without any shirt on; he wondered how long Piers had been strapped to the table in there that way. 

Without waiting to see if Piers took the shirt, the redhead took hold of one of his arms and started putting it on for him. Waiting for him to struggle with getting dressed and staying on his feet at the same time didn't sound like fun. 

"And you remind everybody of Chris. You could be his little brother or something." Only prettier, he added silently. Wow, where had that come from? 

...It was true, though.

“Thanks,” Piers said quietly, trying not to lean too far away from the wall. The last thing he wanted to do was go crashing into Jake. That'd just be awkward. His head was still spinning and his legs felt more like noodles at that moment, but he was determined to stay on his own feet. 

“It was great to see that he made it,” he added softly, eyebrows saddening. Here he was being pathetic when Chris was probably being tortured somewhere. He knew that he couldn't do it on his own, but Jake seemed to be taking his sweet time moving anywhere.

Slipping the shirt over Piers' head and smoothing it down, Jake gave a little nod as if approving of his own handiwork. Then he turned and picked his jacket up from the floor, slipping it on without bothering to zip it closed. 

"Yeah, he says he'd be dead without your help." He glanced at the brunette sidelong, frowning. "A few of his friends made it, too. Not sure you ever met any of 'em, though."

“Leon and his partner? Good. Chris and him seemed close,” Piers said absently. Useless. He was completely useless. Whatever Wesker had been injecting him with took forever to wear off. Staring down at the floor, he finally noticed how big the shirt was. While both of them were pretty lean, their height difference still made the tee too big for him. It also smelled like Jake – which his brain couldn't register at the moment. They just had to get to Chris.

He pushed off the wall and wobbled a few feet down the hallway. “We've wasted enough time here.”

Jake quickly stepped after him, hovering a hand near his shoulder like he'd fall over any minute. It probably wasn't that far from the truth. 

"Fine, we'll go, but I wanna make one thing clear. For the moment, ALL we're doing is looking. Unless Redfield's dying, no rushing in without thinking," he said grimly. "We might be able to lure him away, or maybe he's on one of his 'help people' loony phases and he's just doin' some crazy lab work or something. Who knows?"

“Alright.” Piers wrapped his arm over Jake's shoulder and looked up at him with a nod. “Let's go.”


	5. Fixing It

Chris was back in bed. Not his bunk in the submerged base – but the soft and brightly lit bedroom where he had been in his dreams. It seemed to be mid day, judging by the warm sunlight pouring in through the window above him.

But the crying continued. 

Neither his head or chest hurt, he noticed. Who was crying? It was definitely a kid. In his odd continuing dreams, that had to mean Jake or Piers.

Crawling out of bed, the brunette started toward the door before he was quite steady on his feet, looking down the hallway as soon as he reached it. 

"Piers?" He called worriedly, trying not to think of the real life Piers or what he was likely going through right now. When reality was such a twisted mess, it wasn't any wonder that his mind created this idealistic world for him to retreat into. Worrisome, but not surprising.

The crying stopped abruptly and he heard hushed voices down the hall toward the living room.

Chris headed that way as quietly as he could, worries drifting through his head. Was Piers having another of his nightmares? Was Wesker actually hurting him...? Was he really this anxious over something he KNEW wasn't real? It felt real, though.

His heart skipped a beat when he rounded the corner into the living room. Wesker was holding Piers tightly by one arm and Piers was crying and leaning away from him stubbornly. They both looked up at him in surprise when he arrived.

Chris stood there in the doorway, unsure what to think. He stared at the two of them and braced a hand on the doorframe, blinking. 

Wesker immediately released the little boy, who dashed over to hug Chris's leg. His husband watched Piers go, blue eyes tired with guilt.

Piers didn't say anything, but buried his face against the muscular brunette's leg and sobbed loudly.

A bit numbly, Chris scooped the little boy up and hugged him to his chest. "What's the matter?" He asked quietly — directed not at Piers, but at Wesker. "What's going on?"

Wesker came over to them, hesitantly patting Piers' back. 

“He took a jump drive from my office – I just asked him where it was.” 

Since he was up near Chris's face, Piers hugged around his neck tightly.

Frowning in concern, Chris patted the little boy's hair. 

"Piers, you're okay," he said, as gently as he could. 

He wasn't sure whether to believe Wesker. It had certainly looked like he was grabbing Piers by the arm when Chris showed up. Then again, the kid ran away from him constantly, and maybe Chris was so quick to think the worst of the dream Wesker only because of what the real life one was doing lately... 

"Let's just all sit down and calm down," he told the room in general, starting toward the couch.

Wesker followed closely, sitting down on the far side of the couch. He fidgeted. 

“Maybe some hot cocoa would help.”

Chris shook his head, rubbing Piers' back. 

"I think we need to talk about this. This whole thing — we just live and pretend it's not happening, but it is, and it shouldn't be," he said heavily.

Wesker sat forward, leaning his head in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. 

“He's four – what can I possibly say?” He sat up and looked at Chris evenly, blue eyes stormy. “I'm trying – I even have a therapist appointment next Tuesday.” He put a hand over his mouth and shook his head sadly. “I'm sorry I scared you, Piers.”

The small boy in Chris's arms didn't reply. He had calmed down a little and was breathing more normally. Piers still didn't look at Wesker.

"Piers." Chris tilted his head to try and get a look at the kid's face. He didn't feel qualified to talk them through this, but it really bothered him to see it going on. He was confident that Piers hadn't done anything wrong...and, after remembering their heart-to-heart conversation before, he was also sure Wesker wouldn't hurt him. 

"Can you look at me?" He asked Piers. 

The gray eyed boy leaned back and looked up at him, wiping the corners of his eyes with his sleeve.

"Nobody's gonna hurt you," Chris promised, looking at him sympathetically. "Piers, did you ever tell Daddy about your dreams?" He was pretty sure the kid hadn't; he ran away from Wesker most of the time, they didn't exactly have much in-depth conversations.

That he knew of. He was only around for glimpses of this "life", the brunette reminded himself.

When Piers didn't reply, Wesker nodded. 

“Yes. He said that I lock crying people away and do mean things.”

The little boy finally looked at him, tears trickling down his face again. 

“Are you gonna lock me up now?” He wiped at his face again, sniffling. “I'm trying to stop but I can't.”

“Of course not,” Wesker said as he scooted a little closer. “That isn't me.”

“Yeah huh! And the crying people want to get out but they can't!” Piers sobbed.

Chris blinked and rubbed the little boy's back. 

"It's okay — nobody's gonna lock you up," he promised. "This is good, it's good to talk about things that bother you, even if you're scared." He paused, glancing at Wesker. "Piers, what are you trying to stop doing?"

“Crying,” Piers said, cuddling up against Chris again.

“I don't lock up crying people,” The blond man grumbled, rubbing his forehead. He held out his arms to Chris. “Can I hold him?”

“No!” Piers shouted, squeezing Chris's neck tightly.

"Shh, hey..." Chris sighed. "Piers, Daddy loves you. He'd never hurt you or lock you up." It was Wesker's turn to receive the sympathetic look. 

Wesker sat back against the couch corner, dropping his arms to his sides. 

“You know, Piers. Your dad has bad dreams about me too.” He glanced up as Piers looked his way.

The four year old looked up at Chris again. 

“Really?”

Chris blinked and looked down at him a bit sadly. 

"I do. And sometimes it's really hard to talk to Daddy and know that he didn't do all of the bad stuff I remember from the dreams."

Piers glanced between them, wide-eyed. 

“Does daddy hurt you?”

Taking a breath, Wesker crossed his arms over his chest. It seemed to bother him just as much that Chris was having bad dreams about him. Especially with questions like that.

Just thinking about the real world made Chris feel tired. 

He looked at Wesker and admitted, "Yes, sometimes he does. Sometimes I hurt him. We fight a lot. One time I dreamed he went away and I didn't get to see him anymore...and that made me really sad."

His son followed his gaze and looked at Wesker too. 

“...I don't want daddy to go away.”

Wesker sighed in relief raggedly, leaning over and placing a kiss on Piers' forehead. 

“And I don't want to go away. Ever.” He ruffled the boy's hair gently but moved back to the other end of the couch.

Piers put a small hand on his head where the kiss was placed. 

Chris kissed the top of his head, too, and cuddled him against his chest. 

"Daddy loves us," he said quietly, glancing down at Piers. "He's not gonna go anywhere. It's not his fault we're having bad dreams, though. He wouldn't do the things we're dreaming about — I bet if he met the Daddy in our dreams, they would fight about it."

Sadly, he was pretty sure real life Wesker would win that one...but he didn't want to alarm Piers with THAT afterthought.

After a moment, Piers turned to look at Wesker. 

“I love you too, daddy.”

Wesker's eyebrows went up, but sadly. 

“T-thank you.” 

Chris turned on the couch, keeping one arm around Piers and holding the other out to Wesker. 

"And I love both of you," he smiled. "C'mon, you don't have to stay over there."

Wesker scooted over under his arm gladly, hugging his arms around them both. He looked like he might cry too.

For the first time Chris could remember since he started dreaming the strange dream he was in, Piers smiled at them. He couldn't even think of the last time he saw a child smile in the real world.

Chris hugged them tight, both relieved and saddened. 

"I think we've spent enough time being sad, you guys. Why don't we wake Jake up and we'll all go out to eat breakfast?" 

It was great that he'd patched up most of their little family here. It hurt to think that they weren't real. Really hurt — a physical pang in the center of his chest. Now that he noticed that, his head was throbbing again, too. 

Ice cold hands were squeezing his, and he suddenly found himself staring at a white ceiling. Chris's head pounded behind his ears and his chest felt like someone had hit him with a car.

He was still laying on his back on the floor – Wesker holding his hands, crying and mumbling under his breath. Wait...crying?

Crying. This was the second time he'd awakened to crying. Groaning, Chris squeezed the pale man's hands and coughed a little. 

"W...Wesker..." He winced, struggling to sit up. His body felt very heavy. Why would Wesker even be crying about him? Maybe he was just cracked, and crying in general, like he often did with the crazy laughter? 

The blond slid an arm around Chris's back and helped him sit up gently. Red eyes scanned him over as Wesker shakily hurried to dry his eyes. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses for once and looked absolutely exhausted, but also relieved.

“I...” He managed, but then shook his head.

Chris promptly turned and leaned against him. Maybe the dream was still leaving logical thoughts fuzzy, because his first impulse was to wrap an arm around his neck and hug him — which he did. 

"I don't...w-want to fight anymore, either," he mumbled, trying hard not to cough again. Coughing hurt. He wondered how long he'd been unconscious. Hopping between the dream's scenario and this one, he'd just picked up the conversation where he remembered it leaving off.

Strong arms wrapped around him in return and they sat in silence for a minute. Wesker's body was cold to the touch. The blond breathed softly. 

“How can I fix this?”

Chris shivered a little. Was he still asleep? In the past, he wouldn't have believed this conversation could be possible...but here they were. 

"I-I'm not sure we can," he said faintly, words a bit muffled by the shoulder of Wesker's jacket. There was no fixing some of the things both of them had done and seen. "Just...got to live with it. Somehow."

“I'll find a way. There has to be a way,” Wesker added, an icy hand resting on Chris's side.

The brunette braced a hand on his shoulder and sat back enough to try and see his face. He was sure he looked pretty tired and out of it. Wesker didn't look much better off. 

"I-if there is, let me help."

His mind lingered on the dream he'd awakened from. If only a heartfelt talk was all that was needed to fix everything wrong with them...

Wesker nodded. 

“But first,” He slid up his coat sleeve and pressed a finger on the screen. “Someone followed you here. They aren't safe.” He showed Chris the small screen, using the distraction to dab his eyes. He really had been crying. “Tell them to leave.” Chris had the feeling it wasn't supposed to sound as threatening as it did. Wesker just seemed worn thin.

"What?" Chris blinked, pulling the blond's arm closer to look at the screen. "...Well, it isn't Leon," he sighed. 

He knew that Leon wouldn't risk people at the base after Wesker threatened to kill everyone. Well, he was pretty sure... 

"Uh. Let me make a call," he told Wesker, looking around. His head throbbed from moving so fast, and he winced a little. They were in the middle of the hallway...all walls were too far away to lean against. Wesker appeared to be the only thing to lean on, so he did so.

The blond wrapped his arm back around Chris – easily supporting his weight. He watched Chris closely, but not like he had before. He seemed strangely calm now. Nothing like he had been before the ex-captain was knocked unconscious. Wesker blinked slowly as he settled next to Chris on the hall floor, a hint of his red eyes glowing through his eyelids. Without the sneering and evil smirks, he really did look like the Wesker that had appeared in Chris's dreams.

Chris did his best not to stare. Wesker reminded him of their time back in STARS now — no smugness or snickering, and not ice cold, either. Just solemn. 

Wondering again how he'd wound up in this oddly civil situation, he turned his earpiece back on and opened the channel. 

"...Leon?" He asked cautiously. 

It only took a second for Leon to reply. 

“Chris? Are you okay?” He heard other voices in the background, but none of them were above a whisper. “Thank god. Where are you? Did Jake find you?”

"Jake? ...No, but it's okay," Chris said tiredly. Glancing at Wesker sidelong, he frowned. "I'm gonna stay here awhile. Don't send anybody after me." 

There was a long pause on the radio. Either Leon was talking to who ever it was who was whispering – or he didn't believe what he heard. 

“Um...uh, okay. W-wait. Why are you staying? Is Wesker dead?”

Chris smiled despite himself. He probably sounded crazy to Leon. 

"No, h-he's with me. It's okay, I expected to end up here when I left. Just keep everybody safe, and please don't send anybody after me," he said again. "I'll be in touch." 

“Are you serious?” His friend asked quietly. The voices in the background had been silenced. “...Are you sure? Chris. He's probably playing you right now. Whatever Wesker's doing, you have to come back. We need you.”

Wesker looked over at him calmly. Could he hear what Leon was saying?

"I mean it, Leon. I need to do this," Chris sighed. Was Wesker's hearing enhanced, too? Could he hear Leon's side of things? Worriedly, he added, "I can't come back right now, but this isn't forever, okay? J-just leave it be for awhile."

“Over and out,” Leon said numbly, clicking the radio off. As soon as the radio was quiet, Chris's old rival gently hugged him closer.

“It won't be forever,” Wesker assured him. “I just need the facilities here to treat Piers. After that, we can go.”

Chris clicked the radio off and glanced at him, bemused. 

"...We're in an old base, too. I can't just take you back there, though. They won't get it." He had to wonder if HE got what was going on, either. Wesker seemed so different suddenly that it made his head spin. 

...Or maybe that was the head injury.

“Why not? I was there before.” Finally letting go of Chris, Wesker stood up. He held out icy palms to him and nodded down the hall. “We'll have time to discuss it later – right now, I need to bandage your head. Again,” he added guiltily.

Even after everything that had happened, Chris surprised himself with how easily he reached up and placed his hands into Wesker's grasp. 

They had tried to hit each other far more times than he could recall. HAD hit each other, actually, plenty of times. This felt a bit like his dreams — surreal.

"Let's just rest awhile," he suggested to the blond, looking up at him. "We're both so tired...there's no hurry i-if we're not trying to kill each other, right?" 

He smiled a tiny bit.

Wesker didn't return his smile. He slipped his arm around Chris's waist, pulling the other man's free arm over his shoulders for additional support. 

“I need to go move Piers, but I'll join you shortly.”

He had sort of dragged him off earlier – to who knew where.

"Piers." Chris looked troubled suddenly. "Let me talk to him. I'll come with you." 

“No. I'll bring him to you. You need to sit down,” the blond said firmly, turning down the hallway into a strangely normal room. It looked like an office – complete with computer and desk – but there was a bed shoved into the space behind the desk. “I won't hurt him.”

"Yeah...I-I noticed that before," Chris admitted, trying to decide if his chest or his head hurt more. Probably his head. "I haven't seen him since he died," he said quietly. Did becoming a J'avo count as dying and being brought back? It felt like Piers had been dead from HIS perspective...

Wesker led him to the bed and laid him down. 

“We won't be long.” He turned to leave, but paused. “And before you worry about it – there are no other 'surprises' here. I got rid of them.”

Chris glanced at him, feeling utterly exhausted now that he was laying down again. 

"Oh. Good," he said, in a way that betrayed the fact that it really hadn't even occurred to him. It should have. There were too many other things to worry about right now, though.

“I'll be back.” The tall blond said coolly and stepped out of the door. The door closed behind him.  


* * *

  
“Jake, come in.” Leon's voice abruptly cut through the silence of the hall that the two young men were walking down. Piers didn't have a radio, so he kept stumbling along the wall, trying every door they passed. Getting to where the tracker said Wesker was had proven way harder than they had thought. It was in some other part of the facility entirely.

Jake put a hand on the brunette's shoulder to stop him, frowning and punching the headset's mic button. 

"I copy. What's wrong?" The guy sounded a little rattled. He was sure he wasn't imagining it.

Piers grabbed onto his arm tightly, actually catching his breath from walking. He wasn't doing so hot.

“Chris radioed me. You need to leave. He says he's staying there on purpose – which is just…just…” Leon sputtered, trying to find the right words. “Just idiotic!” 

He took a breath to calm down. “But. Chris says he has to stay for some reason. I need you back here, Jake. We're on our own for awhile. I don't know what Wesker's up to, but if Chris says you have to leave – you better. I wouldn't put it past your dad to come and 'make sure' that you did.”

Jake glanced down at Wesker's ex-prisoner he'd swiped and arched a brow. 

"Okaaay...obviously he's okay enough to radio in and talk to you," he reasoned, patting Piers' back lightly. The guy looked pale. 

The small man turned and hugged an arm over Jake's shoulders, leaning his head on the taller man's chest. 

“I don't think Wesker's hurting him – but he's up to something else. Just come back here.” He paused for a second and lowered his voice. “Sherry's upset about Chris staying...and she found out you left.” The cringe on Leon's voice was almost audible through the radio. “She caught me by surprise.”

Jake put an arm around Piers automatically, distracted by the radio conversation. 

"Yeah, THAT'S gonna be fun. Tell her I'm on my way back. Might take a little longer, though." Fast as he could move, carrying Piers around was bound to slow things down a little.

“Will do. Please make it snappy.” Leon groaned tiredly. “Over and out.”

Piers didn't protest being held closer – it gave him a chance to catch his breath.

Pressing the radio's off button, Jake finally looked down and realized how cozy Piers was getting. He would've grumbled about it, except that the guy was obviously in no state to even be standing. 

Glancing up and down the hall, the redhead put both arms around Piers and carefully scooped him up off of his feet. Hugging the brunette close to his chest, he turned and started quickly down the hallway back toward the entrance.

“Hey. What?” Piers' eyes went wide and he looked back down the hall behind them. “What are you doing?” He struggled in Jake's arms, pushing on his chest. “We need to save the captain!”

"The captain doesn't want to be saved, apparently," Jake said flatly, glancing back over his shoulder. The hall was still empty.

“Says you!” Piers yelled, slapping a hand onto Jake's face. “I'll do it myself, asshole!” He shoved pathetically on the redhead's cheek, apparently trying to push himself out of his captor's arms.

Jake glanced down at him, unimpressed. 

"Why would Leon send me all the way over here to GET Redfield and then turn around and call saying Redfield doesn't wanna leave unless it's true?" 

“I have no idea,” The small brunette said, hand still on Jake's face. He frowned. “But why the hell would Chris want to stay here? That doesn't make any sense!” He paused in his struggling to breath heavily.

"Not really," Jake grumbled. He glanced down at the brunette a bit worriedly. The J'avo all seemed to have serious wheezing breathing problems; Piers didn't sound THAT bad, but he sure didn't sound healthy. "Look, take it easy. From the sound of it, Redfield’s staying here of his own free will."

Slapping an arm around Jake's neck, Piers laid his head down and sighed. 

“As soon as we get to wherever we're going – I'm coming back here.”

The redhead snorted and started down the hallway again. 

"Right. Whatever you say. From the way Redfield always talks about you, he'd want you to get somewhere safe."

“He talks about me?” The man in his arms asked. Since he wasn't walking anymore, he sounded like he might actually be sleepy. Piers leaned his forehead against Jake's chin. “Anything good?”

At least he was really light-weight, Jake told himself, turning around a corner in the hallway. 

"Sort of. He'll mention something you like, like steak or scoped rifles or something, then get all sad and quiet 'cause he thinks you're dead," he explained.

“That sucks,” Piers said after a moment, pale eyes drifting closed. He sat up a bit suddenly, shaking his head to try and stay awake. “But I don't want to do that. We have to save him.” Pale gray eyes peered up at Jake. “You go fight your dad – and I'll grab Chris.”

Jake turned another corner, glancing down at him. Chris had said Piers was loyal to the end, and from the sound of it, that was just how he was all the time. 

"Leon made it pretty clear that Redfield TOLD him he wanted to stay," he told the brunette, frowning. "You wanna try and retrieve him against his own orders, then?"

Staring at him eye to eye, the brunette shook his head slowly. 

“No.” Piers scanned over his rescuer's face. “But I think he's not in his right mind. At all. When I saw him, he had a head injury.”

"Didn't have that last time I saw him," Jake admitted, still frowning. He looked ahead of them. "Still, he's okay enough to call Leon on the radio, so it's not like he's dying. You're in no shape to go fight anybody, I got an order to withdraw — we're leavin'." 

“Ha.” The small man sat up again, squirming. “Who put you in charge? You're a merc!” He poked Jake's chin and frowned. “You can't order anything!”

"Yeah, and I'm not paid to be HERE, either, so why the hell am I?" Jake grumbled, hugging him closer to try and stop the squirming. "Hey, cut it out! I'm not turnin' around, the only thing you'll accomplish is getting dropped on your head!"

Piers couldn't keep struggling against Jake's strength, so settled for glaring up at him angrily. 

“Why ARE you here? How in the world did that Leon guy ever convince you to do anything? All you care about is money and your girlfriend! Did he write you a check or something – because all the banks blew up!”

Jake rolled his eyes. 

"Surprised you even noticed that, mister 'I'm a Boy Scout, I risk my life for The Cause, not the rewards.' Screw money, I've got better things to fight for now."

Finally, Jake spotted the exit down the hall they turned in to. 

“Good for you.” It was Piers' turn to roll his eyes. At least he seemed more awake. Whatever he had been given must have been wearing off. “I don't. Chris is the only thing I have left...and this stupid virus.”

"Yeah, well my blood's some vaccine research holy grail," Jake grumbled. "Sherry's dad messed with her DNA and now she's got super healing powers. We've all got some problems, don't we?"

Stopping at the door, he cautiously peered out to be sure there weren't any zombies milling around out there. It was pretty empty when he'd arrived, but still.

It was dark outside and from what he could tell, the only zombie around was staring off in the wrong direction about thirty feet away. But one could easily become many if they were too noisy.

“So that was her name. Doesn't sound like a problem to me.” The brunette man slid his arm back around Jake's neck and looked outside too. “At least you don't sprout extra eyes and tentacles when you get hurt.” Piers leaned his head back against Jake's neck and seemed to settle down. “You guys'll outlive us all.”

"Not if I do something stupid and get myself killed first," Jake muttered. Lowering his voice, he added dubiously, "How's that work, exactly? You're sane and look pretty cured, but you're not?"

“Wesker was pissed about it too – ask him,” Piers said just as quietly. “I still have...things going on that are weird.” He frowned.

Jake, meanwhile, smirked. Pissing Wesker off seemed like a good thing to him. 

"But you don't go insane and try to kill anybody, right?" He stepped carefully outside and took one more look around before starting in the general direction of the base.

“Uh, not that I'm aware of.” 

"Oh, good." Realizing that he was still squeezing Piers against his chest tightly, the redhead loosened up his grip. It was getting pretty dark out. Jake paused, looking down at the brunette critically.

"Hey, listen, can you hold on good enough to move to my back?"

“Yeah.” Piers nodded, squinting up at him. There seemed to be some kind of iridescent quality to his eyes now that it was dim. Almost cat like. “But put me down first.”

Without hesitation, Jake turned and placed the smaller man onto his feet on the ground. It wasn't like Piers was in any shape to run away...or that Jake wasn't plenty fast enough to catch up to him.

Piers kept his hand on Jake's shoulder for support and glanced around quickly to make sure they were still in the clear. “Thanks.”

Jake shrugged and turned around, kneeling next to him. 

"Here, climb on."

He just felt Piers' hand on his back for a moment, as if he was considering something – then he climbed onto Jake's back and hugged around his neck.

Jake reached up and patted the arms wrapped around his neck, as if checking to make sure they were securely looped. "Hang on tight — we're gonna speed."

Piers leaned his head against Jake's shoulder and nodded. 

“Ready when you are.”

Standing again, Jake reached back and took hold of Piers' legs — and that officially made it a piggyback ride. He got a good idea of which direction the base was, did a little glance to make sure all was clear, and took off running. 

Sherry was probably going to give him some kind of lecture when he got back, especially since he hadn't even accomplished what he'd left to do — rescue Chris. At least retrieving Piers counted for something...right?  


* * *

  
It just didn't make any sense. Maybe it was Chris's exhaustion speaking, or maybe the head injury was worse than he thought, but he couldn't get the image of Wesker crying out of his head. Really CRYING. Over him, of all things. 

It was uncomfortably close to merging with memories of those dreams where they were married. Chris realized he'd been staring at the ceiling for a long time without blinking only when he felt his eyelids growing heavy. He couldn't sleep...sleeping with a head injury wasn't smart. He sighed and brought a hand up to rub his eyes.

An icy hand slid over his. 

“You shouldn't sleep right now.”

"Wha?" Chris moved his hand to the side, blinking past it. "Wesker..." 

Wesker circled around the bed and sat down beside him. He pulled a large leather first aid kit from under his arm, opening it. 

“Chris.” The blond pulled out an alcohol wipe and frowned. “Piers is missing – do you know anything about that?” 

Chris blinked and frowned, too. 

"Did he break himself out?" It didn't seem likely...Piers had looked pretty weak when Chris saw him last.

“Someone came here. Why?” Wesker leaned closer and gently dabbed at the muscular man's head. He had found another pair of sunglasses somewhere. Chris wouldn't put it past the strange man to have a stash of them somewhere nearby. Or he just went to a mall.

Chris sighed. His head was bleeding again, apparently. 

"I...think they were trying to help me. Leon said Jake went after me." 

He had to wonder if the redhead would have even stopped to save Piers if he did see him. Piers was technically still a J'avo...and Jake didn't care for anybody but himself and Sherry, pretty much. Or at least that's how he came across to everyone.

“Jake,” Wesker said softly. He paused in treating Chris's head to dig out some gauze and butterfly bandages. “He must have taken Piers out of spite then. I can't think of another reason.” Smoothing the bandages on, he shook his head – eyebrows lowering above his shades. “Piers' treatment isn't completed yet. If he goes too long without another injection, it could be lethal.”

Chris blinked, letting that bit of information sink into his weary mind. 

"How long does he have?"

Wesker shrugged a shoulder. 

“48 hours, at the most.” He finished tying off the gauze and leaned over Chris, bracing his hands on the bed above the injured man's shoulders. 

Chris looked up at him without so much as moving his head. He didn't feel intimidated, even though being this close to Wesker without violence involved was still very new to him. 

"...I'll try to call Leon and tell him."

“We have to follow them,” the blond said. “I'll bring what I can with me, but I may need to come back here.” Wesker didn't seem to be in any hurry to move away from Chris, though. 

The brunette studied his pale face for a moment, wondering how in the world he was going to get the others to play along with that. Or if they would even listen to him rather than thinking he'd lost it...

He surprised himself when he reached up and touched Wesker's cheek. 

"Okay," he said softly. 

Wesker flinched at his touch, moving to stand up quickly. 

“I'll be back shortly – get some rest.” He pulled on his black gloves again, straightened his sunglasses, and headed back out of the door.

Chris sighed and turned his attention back to the ceiling. This was never going to work. Why did he want something impossible so badly?


	6. Safe

The large metal gate slid open painfully slow, the interior glow lighting up a small area where Jake was standing. The trip back had been pitch black and even a little chilly – especially with how fast they were moving. Piers had been quiet the whole way, chin hugged tightly over the redhead's shoulder.

As expected, both Leon and Sherry were waiting up on the loading platform when the door finally opened all the way. The blonds looked more worried than anything.

“Jake!” Sherry knelt on the gate's edge, leaning down to look at him in the dark. “Are you insane-” Her eyes went wide as she realized he wasn't alone. “Oh my god.” She tilted to try and see who it was.

“What?” Leon stepped forward as well, squinting at the arrivals. “Jake, who is that?” He frowned.

Jake stopped and looked up at them, his blue eyes on Sherry first. She looked really worried. Go figure, he hadn't exactly expected to be out in the dark when he'd left...

Carefully, he turned and placed Piers onto his feet, then scooped him up to hold against his chest like before. 

"It's Piers — Redfield's old partner?" He spoke up, looking up at them. "Turns out he wasn't dead, Wesker just had him prisoner."

“No way! Let's get inside first – come on.” Sherry waved him over to the platform, offering a hand to help pull Piers up.

“Um.” Leon sat beside her, also offering a hand. “Is he...safe to bring in here?”

Claire and several other people Jake didn't recognize came up the tunnel. Chris's sister paused just behind Sherry and Leon. She looked exhausted and maybe like she had been crying – no surprise, with Chris suddenly deciding to stay with his sworn enemy out of the blue. She didn't say anything, but watched Jake curiously.

The redhead carefully passed Piers up to Leon and Sherry. 

"Rode on my back the whole way here and didn't exactly maul me," he pointed out, climbing up next to them. He glanced at the strangers who had arrived with Claire, frowning slightly. "Company show up?"

Claire glanced at the two strangers, simply giving him a small shake of her head. 

“Not the good kind,” she mumbled as she went to help Sherry.

Sherry mostly pulled Piers up herself – carefully sitting him down inside as the massive doors started to shut. Leon held him upright, checking his vitals. Piers opened his eyes tiredly and looked around at them.

“Jake?”

“Hey.” Leon smiled at him, patting his arm. “Remember me? You almost shot me.” The man in his arms looked at him and frowned.

“Agent Kennedy.” 

Jake immediately stepped over and reached for the brunette again. 

"Here, I can carry him." He got the impression that Piers didn't trust Leon much. 

Leon willingly handed Piers off and the small man hugged his arms around Jake's neck again, glancing at Claire curiously. She looked concerned.

“Piers? Did you see Chris? Is he okay?”

Piers nodded weakly. 

“I don't think Wesker's gonna hurt him.” He wanted to add 'anymore,' since Chris's head injury probably was made by accident. Sherry stuck close to them too, eying Piers curiously.

The two rough looking men turned and went back down the tunnel, talking quietly between themselves and holding their guns close.

Jake glanced after them and frowned. 

"What's with those guys?" He asked the gathered group softly. "They don't even look familiar."

“They're just some survivors that showed up.” Leon waved a hand after them. “They're gonna be trouble.”

“They act like they have a problem with everything – the food, the water, the base. I think we should kick them out,” Claire grumbled to Leon.

“Most of the people we've found have been unarmed – they might be useful.”

“Or just more trouble than they're worth – you heard them earlier.”

“Calm down.” The ex-agent sighed, starting down the tunnel too. “While Chris isn't here, I'm in charge. They have a problem with that – they can leave.”

“And kill how many people on the way out? Like you just said – only a few people down here have guns!”

“Hey.” Leon turned back to her. “Let's talk about it later. Right now,” He gestured to Jake and Piers. “We need to get him settled in and figure out what we're doing about Chris.”

The auburn haired woman nodded. 

“You're right.”

Jake started after them, then glanced down to check on Piers and paused. If these survivors got a good look at him, they would probably realize he had some J'avo traits still.

"You should hide your face," he whispered, hoping Leon and Sherry weren't listening too close. "Pull my jacket over your head or something." His arms were both occupied holding Piers, or he would've done it himself.

Piers looked up at him tiredly. 

“Why?” Aside from the large patches of darker skin down his right side, the most obvious J'avo quality Piers had were that his eyes had that iridescence to them in the dim light of the base. He was still just in Jake's t-shirt and the pair of white lab pants, so his arm, face and neck were all perfectly visible. Maybe a pair of sunglasses like Wesker's would help him look less evil.

Or not.

Sherry stopped when Jake did, peeking at Piers. 

“Is he okay?”

"For the moment," the redhead said, frowning slightly. "I'm kind of worried those trigger-happy goons we just met are gonna see his eyes and take a shot at him, though." 

He glanced at Sherry, his expression softening. "...Sorry I worried you."

She frowned sadly. 

“I know you were trying to help, but don't just take off like that.” Sherry glanced after Leon and Claire, who were still walking ahead. “You were really just going to run off and fight Wesker?” Piers turned his face against Jake's jacket reluctantly. He still seemed like he was half asleep, but Wesker's name made him stir.

Leon noticed that they had stopped and doubled back. 

“Everything okay?”

"Yeah, yeah," Jake called back, shaking his head. To Sherry, he said drolly, "Think we better have this conversation once we get to a closed room. For the record, fighting him wasn't exactly the plan."

With a shrug, Leon went back on his way.

“I knew you were smarter than that,” Sherry said with a small smile.

The tunnel ended just up ahead, breaking off into the main room and the connections to the rest of the base. Leon waved them along toward the medical room. There were a bunch of survivors milling around – but the one that caught his attention was the taller of the two from earlier. He watched Jake as they approached and then ducked away into one of the many rooms.

Claire was right. They certainly gave off a troublesome vibe.

The redhead followed the guy with his eyes, frowning. He stepped inside the medical room as quickly as he could, then paused a few feet inside, wondering where to place Piers. 

His injured charge looked tiredly around the room.

Leon tugged a blanket off of one of the many industrial pipes that ran throughout the base, coming back over and directing Jake toward an unoccupied bed.

“So, you said Wesker had him? How?” The blond asked, shaking out the blanket.

Claire came in after them, offering Sherry something on a plate. It smelled like fish or something. After the petite blond woman took a piece, Chris's sister sat the plate down and joined Leon. 

Jake carefully laid Piers on the bed on his back, then turned and reached for the blanket to spread over him. 

"Strapped to a table. Think he was doing some kind of experiment. Right?" He looked to Piers for confirmation.

Piers stared back at him, pale gray eyes hooded. 

“Yeah. As far as I could tell, he was trying to cure me.” He held up his right hand and made a fist. “It worked.”

“That's weird,” Leon mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe he had bigger plans for you down the road.”

“Or Chris,” the small brunette said thoughtfully. Leon just frowned.

"And now he's got Redfield right there with him," Jake grumbled, crossing his arms. "Great. He seriously called you up and said he wanted to stay?"

“Ah, yeah.” The blond man plunked down on the bed next to Piers. “He said he had to stay. He wouldn't explain why exactly, but I couldn't talk him out of it.” Piers turned and looked up at him. He didn't look too pleased that he had moved closer.

Seeing the sad look that appeared on Claire's face, Sherry came over to her side and hugged an arm over the taller woman's shoulders.

Jake glanced around quickly and snagged the chair a few feet away, dragging it over to sit right beside the bed next to Piers. It occurred to him that Piers probably didn't know anybody here that well, and that combined with being so weak must be uneasy for him. 

"That's freaky. He didn't sound mind-controlled or plaga-controlled or whatever?" The redhead leaned an elbow on the side of the bed and propped his chin up on his hand, glancing sideways at Piers.

“He sounded perfectly normal – that's why it's so weird,” Leon grumbled, absently smoothing the edge of Piers' blanket – which caused the short brunette to scoot a little closer to Jake's side of the bed. “My best guess is that Wesker has some deal with him. Like...not killing us or something,” the blond mused.

Jake noticed the scooting, but pretended that he didn't. Leon didn't exactly seem intimidating to HIM. Maybe he and Piers had had a run-in at some point? 

"If that's really it, he's dumber than I thought," Jake said flatly.

Piers glared up at him tiredly. 

“I think it's way creepier than that.”

Leon leaned over him. 

“Oh? How so?”

The brunette shrank into his blanket angrily. 

“Hey. Personal space is great.”

“Huh? Oh.” The ex-agent sat back again. “Sorry.”

Jake reached over and patted the edge of Piers' blanket. 

"What do you think he's up to? You DID see Chris, right?"

“Briefly before Wesker dragged me off. The captain's head was bleeding.” The brunette man frowned cutely.

Cutely? What the hell...

“So, there's a good possibility he wasn't thinking straight.”

“No, I got to talk to him and he seemed perfectly fine,” Piers told Leon. “But uh...” He trailed off, glancing between Leon and Jake. “I think they might be...you know.”

Jake scowled, partly to hide any reaction he might have had to Piers' cute expression. 'Cute'. Why did he find that cute? 

"You know how you said Wesker left you there a long time and then came back?" He asked.

Piers nodded as Leon got up off of the bed and began to pace. 

“Yes. He'd just strap me down and leave. It sucked.”

Jake glanced at Leon as he moved, but quickly brought his attention back to Piers. 

"Yeah, well when he left you, he was over here. Nobody ever let ME in the same room as him, so I don't know much about why. Redfield put him in a cell, though."

Piers sat up on his elbows weakly. 

“Well, he got out. A lot.”

"That's because he wasn't exactly locked in," Jake said, shooting Leon a pointed look. "I guess he wanted to stick around so he could see Redfield? Creepy."

The small soldier's cheeks got a rosy hue. 

“I know captain and him are obsessed with each other – but it seemed more intimate than that.” He looked up at Jake shyly. “You know?”

Jake blinked, trying to process the words past the distraction of what he was seeing. Since when did words like 'cute' and 'shy' apply to guys he was thinking of? Piers was only blushing because of what he was talking about...right? 

"Uh. I dunno, I haven't ever seen them in the same room together," he admitted, tilting his head a little to look at Piers sideways. He didn't find other guys distracting to look at. What was the deal with this one? "Last I saw Redfield, he said he's who Wesker wanted, so he'd just go out there and face him."

“What else would Wesker want?” Leon interrupted, pacing back to them.

Claire stepped closer to the bed too. 

“You know, I’m not really surprised.” She sighed sadly. “But I hope he has a damn good reason for staying with that psycho.”

"So, that's it?" Jake sat up and looked at Leon, frowning. "We're just gonna leave him over there and go on with our merry little lives over here, only with armed weirdos roaming the halls suddenly? That doesn't seem like the best plan ever."

“Jake's right.” Claire nodded enthusiastically. “Those two have to go, and Chris has to come back.”

“Otto and Harry?” Leon asked, raising an eyebrow. “We'd have to throw them out. Then people would really wonder WHY if they haven't done anything yet.”

Piers suddenly placed a hand on Jake's arm. The redhead frowned at the others, turning to see what Piers wanted. A pair of soft gray eyes stared up at him as Piers leaned closer to whisper. 

“Do you want your T-shirt back now?” The small brunette's cheek were still rosy as he tugged on the black tee's neck.

Both Leon and Claire stopped talking to look at them.

Jake blinked, glancing down at the shirt and back up to the brunette's eyes. Piers looked like he'd really rather keep his shirt on, with how pink his cheeks were. That, or he had a fever. The redhead frowned and pressed a hand carefully to Piers' forehead to find out.

"Nah, you need it more than me," he replied as casually as he could. Wasn't Piers feeling chilled on the way here? Now that he was actually looking at him, it was obvious that the little soldier was still cold. He was shaking. 

“I have a blanket,” Piers mumbled, glancing at the other two in the room that had gone silent.

Leon had his eyebrow raised – and Claire was just smiling. Sherry was still there too, despite being amazingly quiet. She was focused on some small electronic on her lap and wasn't paying attention to the room at the moment, lost deep in thought.

"Feels like you need another one," Jake informed Piers, getting to his feet and looking around for any more blankets draped over things like the first one had been. If he noticed Leon's and Claire's staring, he was doing a good job of ignoring it. He put another blanket on Piers' bed, tucking the edges in around his shoulders. "There, how's that?"

“Um. Thanks,” Piers said quietly, frowning at Leon.

“Look. I'll go talk to them. Maybe they'll see that there's nothing here for them anyways – they sure complain about it enough.” The blond ex-agent sighed, heading out of the door.

“Leon wait! What about my brother?” Claire grumbled, speeding after him.

Sherry looked up from her project, glancing at Claire's ponytail disappearing out into the hallway. The blue eyed girl blinked and glanced to Jake with wide eyes. 

“Is he going after Chris?”

Feeling a bit guilty for sticking so close to Piers instead of her, Jake stepped over and patted Sherry's shoulder, glancing at the door. 

"He's gonna try and talk the creeps with the guns into leaving, I think." He tilted his head, glancing down at the device she was holding. "What're ya working on?"

“Good! Those guys are creepy.” She frowned down at the device to. “I...don't know.” Sherry looked up at him and then over to Piers. Dropping the device, she stepped over to lean over the bed. “How're you doing?” She ran a hand over his forehead shyly.

Piers stuck his nose under his blankets and mumbled, “Fine, ma'am.”

Jake blinked after her, then glanced back down at the device. He was a bit curious what was on it...but Piers AND Sherry over there were too distracting to ignore. On his way back over to the bed, he did close the door to the hallway, though.

"Sherry, I think one of us better keep an eye on him while those guys are hangin' around," the redhead suggested, stepping over near them again and looking at Piers with a small frown. More blankets just made him look smaller in the middle of them. Why was he noticing that, anyway?

“I can do it!” His girlfriend offered, spinning to give him a one-armed hug. “I hate being in the main room anyway.”

Piers sat up in bed, pushing the blankets down. 

“I'll be fine by myself. You're not normal either, you know. What if they come after you?” He frowned and nodded to Jake. “You should stay with him.”

Sherry shook her head. 

“If they come after either of us, they'll get more than they can handle.” Standing up on her tip toes, she kissed Jake's cheek. “We'll be fine, babe.”

Jake put an arm around the petite blond and turned his head to kiss her forehead. 

"That's my super girl. Anybody who messes with us is gonna get a fight they can't win." He glanced at Piers, adding with a frown, "And anybody who wants you has to go through us first." 

He kind of felt responsible for Piers since he'd brought the guy back with him when Piers couldn't stand or walk around on his own. He was relieved that Sherry felt the same way about guarding Piers, though.

“Yep,” the blond girl chimed in, leaving Jake's side to tuck Piers back in. “Now. Tell me some embarrassing stories about Chris.” Sherry beamed, perching on the bedside.

Piers smiled shyly at her. 

“I think I have a few.”  


* * *

  
“...Depressed?” Chris barely made out the last word of the sentence drifting to his ears. A hand ran up his arm and he felt the warmth of someone lean against his back. He was laying on his face on a couch.

Wesker nuzzled his cheek playfully. “Because you're sleeping a lot. Everywhere,” he added.

Chris noted with bemusement that he noticed how warm Wesker felt even before noticing that his head and chest didn't hurt. He blinked and turned his head, trying to get a good look at the blond man. 

"...Dreaming again," he observed sleepily.

“Not a nightmare?” Wesker said nicely, kissing Chris's neck. “Finally.”

He also noticed that he was just wearing a pair of blue pajama pants with a big red and white circle on the side. It looked vaguely familiar but he got the feeling it wasn't important – something Piers was fond of?

Wesker however, was wearing a sharp black jacket, a silky gray button up, and black slacks. He smiled at Chris warmly. 

“The boys said you looked like roadkill.”

Chris sat up slowly and ran his fingers through his hair, looking at Wesker sheepishly. 

"Uh. I guess I was really tired." In a roadkill sense, that was a pun, wasn't it? He smiled a little "Don't worry about me."

“You make it incredibly hard not to.” The man smiled, blue eye twinkling. “But,” He got up off of the couch. “You might want to put some clothes on. Joseph's in the kitchen.”

Joseph? He hadn't even been friends with Joseph in the real world. Before the poor man was torn apart by dogs, they had barely spoken. Assuming this was the same Joseph who had been in STARS.

"Joseph?" Chris echoed his own thoughts, sounding just as uncertain aloud as he had the first time in his head. He got to his feet, starting toward the bedroom. These dreams were so vivid, he had already memorized most of the layout of the house — he knew where the bedroom was just like he actually lived there.

“Yes.” Wesker followed after him. “It's Thursday, remember?” He paused in front of the mirror on the wall to smooth out his jacket. “I'm going to go have lunch with Bill.” 

Bill? Who the hell was Bill? Wait...Bill was short for William. William Birkin was the only 'Bill' Chris could think of that Wesker might be friends with. That made sense, Sherry had been hanging out with their kids earlier and everything.

"Oh, yeah. Bill. No problem," he said. Digging through the dresser drawers until he located a shirt and some pants, the brunette quickly got dressed, tossing the pajama pants onto the bed and trying very hard not to notice that Wesker was standing right there in the doorway. They were married in this dream, being awkward made no sense. 

Wesker chuckled, circling over to Chris. 

“Just keep Joseph away from the boys. He doesn't have to deal with them AFTER the ice cream.” 

At least Wesker seemed to be in a good mood. The last dream must have fixed the gap that was forming between him and Piers.

Smoothing the hem of his T-shirt down, Chris glanced up at the blond's amused look and couldn't help the concerned little furrow of his brows. Was it necessary to keep Joseph away from the kids, or to keep the kids away from Joseph?

It was still disorienting to see Wesker standing there, no sunglasses on and his eyes that clear crystal blue, just...SMILING at him without anything smug or twisted behind it. 

“What'd I do to deserve that look?” The blond man asked in mock surprise, closing the space between them to give Chris a kiss.

“Uncle Joseph!” Piers yelled from the other room. They could hear his small feet tear across the living room carpet.

Wesker glanced at the bedroom door and smiled. Looking back at Chris, he pulled a pair of sunglasses from his jacket pocket and slid them on. 

“That's my cue.”

Chris glanced down at the shades as they were drawn out, sighing. Right...he'd probably wake up soon. Reality was pretty cold and harsh compared to this, and he wasn't sure what he could do for that Wesker besides try to make his peace with him. 

He stepped closer to press a kiss to the blond's lips while they were still married and he still had the chance to. 

"Say hi to Bill for me," he said, mustering a smile for Wesker's benefit. Then he turned and started toward the living room, wondering if Jake was still sick or not.

“I will.” Wesker followed him, splitting off out of the front door as Chris made his way to the kitchen. He could hear Piers laughing and quiet talking.

Running his fingers through his hair again and hoping he didn't have any marks from the couch cushions on his face after his nap, the brunette stepped into the kitchen. 

"Hey, Joseph," he said as casually as he could, trying not to actually look the guy in the eye. God, it had been years since he'd seen Joseph — and it WAS the same one he’d been thinking of, Joseph Frost from STARS. Chris tended to remember him getting torn to shreds more than anything; it would be eerie speaking to a dead man.

Why did his mind come up with this stuff?

“Chris! Hey man!” The tanned man grinned, standing up from his seat next to the tall table. Piers was sitting up on the table edge and turned to look at his dad when he came in. Joseph circled around to give Chris a sort of half hug. “Nice to see you got that couch off your face.” He nudged the brunette's arm playfully.

Piers hopped down and ran to hug Chris's leg, holding up a little helicopter toy. 

“Dad! Look! It's called an Apache!”

Chris glanced down at Piers and smiled. 

"Nice, it really does look like one. The real ones are a whole lot bigger." He ruffled Piers' hair, smiling at Joseph. Well, it would be nice to have memories of him where he wasn't screaming, anyway. 

“You finally get rid of the other one?” Joseph gestured to Piers. “I never see him anymore.” He turned and picked a little tank off of the kitchen table and offered it to Chris. “Got him a T-90.”

“Dad!” Piers tugged on his pants leg impatiently, big gray eyes staring up at him.

Chris scooped Piers up and easily held him with one arm, glancing over at Joseph. 

"Jake's been a little sick lately; let's go check on him, Piers." Noting that Wesker had apparently made a fresh pot of coffee, he told Joseph easily, "We'll be right back. Help yourself to coffee if you want." 

He turned and headed back through the living room, hoping he'd guessed right and that Jake really was in his room. He didn't actually have any memories of whatever happened before his 'nap' to go on.

Hugging an arm around Chris's neck, Piers waved the little helicopter along happily as they walked – making a motor sound. He suddenly paused. 

“Dad, do you think daddy still loves me?”

Chris glanced at him and blinked. 

"Don't you think so?"

Piers stared up at him and shook his head slowly. 

Chris paused in the hallway, looking at the little boy in concern. 

"Why not, Piers? Did he do something to make you think so?"

“I took his thingy.” The toddler admitted guiltily, spinning the tiny Apache's rotor blades. “He was really mad.”

"Er...the flash drive again?" Chris asked, grasping at straws a bit. "Why do you take other people's things like that?"

Piers looked up at him again wide eyed. 

“I thought it had the crying people on it!” He hugged Chris's neck again. “But...I think I dreamed that.” The child sniffled sadly. “But now I can't find it and daddy hates me!”

"Oh...hey, it's okay." Chris rubbed the boy's back, feeling bad. He was only a little kid — kid-logic said he felt guilty about things so Wesker must be mad about them. From what Chris could tell earlier, Wesker wasn't in an angry mood at all, though. 

“I'm s-sorry I took it!” Piers blubbered, hugging his Apache close too. “I'll f-find it!”

"Hey, hey..." Chris hugged the little boy close under his chin and patted his back, rocking him a little. "Shhh. I'll help you look for it, okay?"

Great, now he wanted to talk to Wesker again and figure out if he really was irked about it or not. Except, Wesker was gone for the day, and he had Jake to wake up and Joseph to hang out with. Or spend time with. Or whatever the hell they did together, seeing as he didn't actually know the man beyond his face and name...

Piers sniffled and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“If w-we don't find it, can you buy daddy a new one?”

"If we really can't find it," Chris agreed, peering down at his face. It was worrisome — he'd seen Piers as a little kid more often recently than he'd seen the actual Piers, and when he thought of the name, the little boy he held was the one who was starting to come to mind first. 

"But I promise, even if we don't find it, Daddy still loves you," he added gently. "I bet if you just told him you're sorry you lost it, he wouldn't even be angry."

He started toward Jake's room again slowly.

“Hey...” Joseph came up behind him, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket. “Everything okay up here?” He smiled nervously at Chris.

The brunette glanced back at him and smiled. 

"Yeah. Sorry, I'm a really slow walker," he offered, exchanging a glance with Piers. He didn't want to make the little boy uncomfortable by telling Joseph any of the stuff he was worried about. It was great that Piers would confide in him when he was anxious, and he wanted the kid to keep trusting him. 

Reaching over, he pushed the door to the kids' room open and peeked inside to check on Jake.

All he could see from the door was a horribly messy room and a wad of blankets curled up on the bed. 

Joseph followed his motion, stepping up beside him. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He eyed Chris evenly. “Anything.”

Piers looked at him with tearful eyes. 

“Thank you for the Apache.”

The tan man smiled widely back at the toddler. 

“No problem, kiddo.”

Chris pet Piers' hair a little and looked down at him. 

"Hey, do you wanna stay with Uncle Joseph a minute while I wake up Jake?"

“Yeah.” Piers nodded timidly, holding out an arm toward Joseph. 

The man in the jacket gladly took him and patted his back. 

“Sleeping better?” When Piers shook his head, Joseph poked the Apache helicopter toy. “Maybe this'll keep bad dreams away. Pew pew.” He shook the little helicopter. “It's got rockets.”

A bit relieved, Chris stepped over to check on Jake. The blankets were bundled around him on the bed so tight, Chris was a bit worried the kid couldn't breathe under there. He reached to pull the blankets aside.

"Hey, Jake, how're you feeling...?!" He managed to stare at the pillow that had been wrapped in the blanket for a split-second before he felt something latch onto his ankle from under the bed. 

Nonplussed, the brunette moved his leg back, pulling a certain red-haired kid out from under the bed still hanging onto it. "Ambush, huh? You must be feeling better."

“There's the little monster.” Joseph grinned, leaning in the door. 

“Jake, look what I got!” Piers held up the helicopter toy and smiled excitedly. “It's an Apache!”

Jake looked up at the toy with a little bit of curiosity, but didn't make any move to let go of Chris. The brunette leaned down and picked him up, dusting the lint out of his short hair. 

"It's really dusty under that bed — or was, you probably took most of it with you," he told the kid.

"There's no bunnies under there yet," Jake retorted, as if that made the dust level acceptable. He gave a little scowl and was about to say more, but then sneezed instead. 

Chris patted his back. 

"I'm glad you're awake. Uncle Joseph's here, see?"

“And I got you something.” Stepping inside, Joseph held the T-90 out to Jake. 

The little redhead perked up at that, only glancing up at him once before sticking out a small hand to accept the toy. He looked it over with a studious kind of seriousness, though, instead of saying anything in reply.

"Hey," Chris tapped his shoulder. "Shouldn't you say something to Uncle Joseph?"

Jake mumbled something and glanced over at Joseph. 

"Hi, Uncle Joseph."

Chris tried not to sound amused as he clarified, "I meant you should probably say thank you for the present. It's a pretty cool one. It was really nice of him to bring it for you, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Jake said automatically, a bit bored with the routine. "Thanks for the tank, Uncle Joseph. It's just what I always wanted." If the tone was any more put-upon, he would have actually been rolling his eyes. 

“Welcome. But,” Joseph sat Piers down. “There's also two tubs of ice cream downstairs – just melting.” He shrugged.

Piers looked up at him, then Chris and finally Jake before darting off back out the door.

Jake hugged the tank to his chest and wrapped his other arm around Chris's neck, leaning on him. 

"Dad, we better go downstairs. Daddy says wastin' ice-cream's a CRIME," he said matter-of-factly. 

Trying not to laugh at the mental image of Wesker actually uttering that line, Chris turned and headed for the door, waving Joseph after him. 

"Well we wouldn't want to waste ice-cream even if it wasn't!"

“Come on man.” Joseph fell in beside him, speaking quietly. With Jake in his arms, it wasn't like Chris and him could have a private conversation. “Al gave me the whole 'there's fresh coffee' line.”

Chris glanced at him, wondering what exactly to say to that. Wesker seemed to serve everybody coffee. Was that supposed to be an unusual thing? He gave Claire coffee when she came over to visit before...

"..." Jake seemed content to lean against his chest, still examining the toy tank like it was far more interesting than any person in the room. He ignored both of them.

"Let's get the ice-cream scooped out so it doesn't melt everywhere, and THEN coffee," he told Joseph with a meaningful look. The kids would be distracted by the ice-cream and then they could talk a bit. Maybe Jake and Piers would play with their toys after that...probably making a huge sticky melted ice-cream mess in the process, but oh, well, such is life.

“Alright, alright.” Joseph headed back into the kitchen. “Hey.” He mumbled, plucking the little Apache helicopter off of the top of the open ice cream tub. “Bowls first.”

He slipped off his jacket, hung it on a chair and grabbed an ice cream scoop from a random drawer. “Chocolate or peanut butter bits?”

“Both!” Piers cheered from his chair, sticking ice cream covered hands in the air.

"Peanut butter," Jake said promptly, not caring that he hadn't been the one being spoken to.

Chris sat the redheaded boy down in a chair at the table. 

"Here, why don't you put your tank with Piers' helicopter? If you get ice-cream on it, the gun will get sticky and it won't shoot anymore," he reasoned.

Jake gave him a long, scrutinizing look...then plunked the tank on the table beside the Apache.

"You're really smart, Dad."

Joseph served out several bowls of ice cream, scooting them to the eager children. 

“Chris, you wanna grab some coffee?”

"Sure, I think there's most of a pot there," Chris said easily, heading toward the coffee maker. "Hey, bring the other ice-cream, we'll put it in the fridge."

His friend was already on his way over and tucked the ice cream away into the refrigerator. 

“Alright.” He crossed his rather muscular arms and leaned against the fridge. “What's up?”

Chris glanced back to be sure the kids were actually preoccupied. They were, and talking to each other and pointing at their toys as they did so.

He turned back to Joseph and admitted, "It's kind of hard to explain. Everybody keeps blaming Wesker, but I'm pretty sure the problem's me." 

Taking a cup of coffee, the tanned man nodded. 

“Okay. A little less vague would be good. Piers said he was having bad dreams about you guys – is that it?”

Chris sighed and leaned back against the counter, bracing his palms on the edge. 

"That's part of it, but I'M having dreams, too. Nightmares, actually. And you'd think that would make me sleep less, but I fall asleep during the day all the time now." He frowned, looking at Joseph's coffee mug unhappily. May as well serve himself one, what the hell. He turned and started to pour a cup.

“Are you dreaming about, uh.” His friend pondered for a second. “Crying people in cells?” Joseph glanced up at Chris and raised an eyebrow. “It sounds like some pretty creepy shit for a 4 year old to be dreaming up.”

Chris held his coffee mug in both hands and shook his head. 

"No. I'm really worried about that stuff, too, but the stuff I'm seeing is totally different. It's..." He drew a deep breath. "Promise you won't laugh, okay?"

A wide smile instantly spread across Joseph's face and he nodded. 

“Sure.”

Chris paused to take a long sip of his coffee and try to figure out just how much of real life he could get away with describing. Hey, Joseph knew it was just a “dream,” so it wasn't like he'd look crazy or anything.

Lowering the coffee mug at last, he told the tanned man grimly, "I keep dreaming I'm in the military, fighting bio-terrorists. They experiment on people and make...monsters." He looked down at the floor distantly. 

He'd seen so, so many monsters. Monsters that used to be people. 

Joseph moved closer, keeping his voice low. 

“You're married to a virologist. It doesn't sound that crazy.” He shrugged a shoulder and sipped his coffee. “He deals with that bio-stuff all the time. Monsters aren't that far of a leap.”

"It's more than that, though. He's one of them," Chris sighed, also keeping his voice as quiet as he could. "He tries to make the whole world into BOWs — that's bio-organic weapons, monsters. We chase each other for years, a-and in the end I have to fight him." 

He looked down into the black coffee in his cup sadly. "And I kill him...and that doesn't make it all go away. In a couple years, somebody else still destroys the world anyway. Why'd I have to kill him, if it wasn't going to fix things?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“It's just a dream,” Joseph reassured him gently. “I seriously doubt Al's down there making mutated dogs or whatever.” Patting Chris's shoulder, he thought it over for a moment. “You said you had to kill him?”

"Yep," Chris said flatly, sipping his coffee to try and hide how much that bothered him. He was pretty sure the real Wesker was beyond help at this point, physically at least. He was ice cold and pale and didn't exactly meet the definition of 'alive', even if he acted like it. Yet Chris couldn't let go of him, couldn't just help him die and be done with it. 

If Wesker was truly gone, he didn't know what would be left for him. Claire...but that wasn't the same. He could hang in there for her and still spend the rest of his life feeling utterly alone.

"Shooting him wasn't enough," he added tiredly. "Came back."

“Yikes, man,” Joseph mumbled, squeezing Chris's shoulder. “At least you have-”

He was interrupted by the doorbell ringing through the house.


	7. A Different You

Chris tensed at the sound of the doorbell, glancing quickly toward the living room. He glanced at the kids, too, and then started for the door. 

"I'd better get that."

Joseph hung back with the kids, coffee in hand.

Still carrying his coffee mug as well, Chris went to the front door and opened it, looking to see who was out there. 

Wesker glanced up, keys in hand. 

“Oh. You're still home.” 

Chris looked at him a bit sadly and shrugged, stepping aside for him to come inside the house. 

"If you thought we were gone, who were you ringing the doorbell for?"

“Ah, I just wasn't thinking.” The blond man paused on his way past to kiss Chris's cheek, eyes scanning his face from behind his shades. “Bill had to cancel – Anne's sick.”

Chris blinked. 

"Oh...that's too bad, hope it's nothing too serious," he said, looking at the shades for a long moment. "Hey, I...I think Piers thinks you're still mad about that lost flash drive," he said more quietly. Way to deflect what was really bothering him in a different direction.

“I...” Chris could swear he saw Wesker's face twitch. “Ah. That.” He pushed his sunglasses up with a finger. 

"He was really upset. I had to promise to help look for it before he'd stop crying," Chris explained, looking down at his coffee cup. His brows saddened, and he hoped Joseph didn't tell Wesker anything of the “dreams” he'd been talking about a few minutes ago. "Where did you think we were going, anyway? Joseph just wants to hang around and talk and drink coffee."

“Like I said, I wasn't thinking,” Wesker said quickly. “Look. I'm not mad at him, Chris.” The blond sighed deeply. “It just had a lot of important data on it – I had to explain to a board of scientists that my four year old stole the only copy of months of top secret research. They weren't happy with me.”

Chris looked at him and nodded, still clinging to his coffee mug like some kind of prop.

"It's probably around the house somewhere. We'll just have a search for it, I bet it turns up."

Wesker frowned. 

“You know. He kept sneaking outside that day. Hm.” He shook his head. “Whatever the case may be, I'll talk with Piers.” The tall man kissed Chris and smiled weakly. “We'll worry about that later, right now…” He tilted his head. “…you have to wake up.”

There was a glint of red under his lenses and pain shot through Chris's head and chest.

“Chris.” Wesker shook him gently.

"I — what? Wesker...?" Chris looked up at him in confusion, grabbing his hand and trying to ignore the sudden throbbing in his head. 

The Wesker in the dream had known that Chris was asleep. He'd known and commented on it. Was that just his mind's way of switching from the dream Wesker's words to what the real one was saying...? He felt foolish suddenly. Dream Wesker was all part of his own imagination, so him knowing anything Chris could hear wasn't that odd.

“How is your head?” His ex-rival asked, running a very chilly hand down the side of Chris's face. “The jeep is loaded.” He trailed his finger down Chris's jaw. “Sunrise is very soon – let's go.” Not waiting for a reply, he gently pulled the large brunette up to a sitting position.

"Injury's not bad," Chris mumbled, leaning against him. "Head's a mess..." He braced a hand on one of Wesker's shoulders and moved to climb off the side of the bed. 

He already missed his little family from the dreams. Piers needed to be treated, though, or he would die. Now, to call ahead and warn them Wesker was coming back, or just show up at the door?

Wesker immediately stood up and hugged Chris to him. 

“You can rest as long as you need to once we're there.” He easily swept Chris up into his arms – which probably looked pretty funny considering the muscle difference between them. But no one was there to see it anyways and Wesker certainly didn't care. “Hold on.”

The brunette sighed, hugging both arms around his neck. 

"No, I can't. I've got to convince them to listen to you," he said flatly. Wesker carrying him around was just surreal — even the dream one didn't do that. He was pretty sure once the dizziness went away he wouldn't be that bad off, injury-wise.

“They'll listen when he begins to change back,” The blond said calmly, speeding off down the hall. In seconds they were in some kind of garage. It was the first room in the base that Chris had seen that wasn't white; instead, it was all black metal. A large jeep was parked in the middle of the narrow room, packed with boxes. Who knew what was inside of them.

Chris looked around, a bit stunned at how fast they'd traveled there. He'd known that Wesker could move lightning-fast, but not necessarily while carrying somebody else around. 

"I-I'll call Leon when we get close, but they're not gonna want to trust us," he told the blond as they approached the jeep. He wondered if Piers had told the others horrible things about Wesker. From the sound of it, Piers had been suicidal for awhile and Wesker had actually saved him.

Sitting Chris down on the passenger side, in the blink of an eye Wesker was in the driver's seat.

“I doubt that his bleeding heart will let him just stand by while Piers mutates into a monster.” The blond pressed several buttons on the dashboard and the jeep started up – the roof folding over them and sealing with a click. He turned to look at Chris calmly. “But one way or another, I won't let him die. They'll let us in – or I'll make a door.”

Chris slumped against the back of his seat and slowly pulled his seat belt on. 

"I-I still don't understand...why you're doing this," he said, looking over at Wesker, "but I'm glad you are. Thanks for helping him." 

The pale man stared at him for a long moment before turning back to the jeep's controls. He pressed some more buttons and the large door in front of them slid up, revealing the ruined landscape. Wesker pulled the jeep forward, pausing to close the door again before finally replying quietly. 

“You're welcome.”

"..." Chris brought a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, recalling the conversation he'd had with Joseph in his dream. Joseph — a dead man. He wondered if Piers had ever encountered any crying people locked in cages during his stay here while being "treated." There only seemed to be him and Wesker in the whole facility.

"Do you sleep?" He asked Wesker suddenly, realizing he wasn't sure the man even did anymore. Why would he need to, right?

Wesker glanced at him sideways, crunching his way over a wandering zombie. 

“Sometimes.” He pulled the jeep past several other walking dead and sped off down the remains of what Chris guessed was once a road.

Chris looked at him rather sadly. 

"Any dreams?" 'Am I in them?' He added silently. It was stupid to think that there was more to his little dream world than just something his mind made up, but the dreams were so vivid, and the 'story' continued from one to the next...

Amazingly enough, the question seemed to make Wesker uncomfortable. He frowned ever so slightly. 

“Why?”

Like some kind of mirror effect, Chris immediately felt uncomfortable, too. 

"It's...never mind, it's stupid," he said, looking down at the dashboard. It really was. What did he hope to accomplish by telling Wesker that he had these weird dreams — or anybody, for that matter? He'd just look crazy to them, probably.

Wesker slowly smirked, but didn't say anything.

Chris looked out the window at the sunrise and tried not to think too much. What could they possibly hope to do after Piers was safe? Live together? Survive and scavenge together...?

“Dreams are a way for our brains to process reality, Chris,” the blond replied at last. “They aren't real – they'll never be.” He said, smirk fading away. 

The brunette glanced over at him, surprised to actually get any thought-out response. 

"But I don't dream about reality," he said quietly. "I-I can think and remember real life when I'm sleeping...but I'm somewhere a lot better." It was better, wasn't it? He kind of wished he was there right now.

“Hm. Interesting,” Wesker said quietly. He waited expectantly for Chris to continue – looking his way through his shades.

Oh, great, Chris thought uneasily. He was actually paying attention. 

He took a deep breath, realized he had no idea how to explain why the dreams hit him so hard, and stayed silent, putting a hand over his face. He shook his head a little. 

The blond beside him frowned in concern. “Are you alright? Do we need to stop?”

Again, Chris shook his head. 

"Just...drive. Gotta help Piers," he said quietly, moving his hand to run the fingers through his hair. "It's weird talking to you again, Wesker." True enough. The two hadn't actually just chatted since STARS.

“I dream about the old world. The streets, the quiet – you.” The jeep slowed as they pushed past an abandoned car. “Things that I've forgotten over the years. They were hidden away somewhere I couldn't remember.” 

Wesker frowned and he glanced at Chris yet again. “I didn't dream for so long. But when I burned...and woke back up, they were there again. Then I dreamed of you.” He gestured to Chris with a hand, keeping the other firmly on the steering wheel. “Not this you – a different you. A you that sometimes smiles.”

Chris blinked at him. 

"You..." He took a slow breath and went over that a second time. Wesker dreamed about him? "I-I dream about you, too. A different you," he admitted. "A different...us."

“Us,” the blond said hauntingly. He slowed down the jeep and looked at Chris. “What kind of us?”

Chris looked at him, wishing there was really any chance that they had both been dreaming the same thing. That would almost make it worse, though, somehow — that they'd been dreaming of a better version of the other with reality right in front of them. 

"We," he began, and then frowned. How could he define the things he felt when he looked at that other Wesker? There was no threat to him at all, and a bizarre level of comfort around him, considering the fact that Chris still remembered real life while he was there. 

"...It's an us that let there be an us. W-we're married," he said, before he could stop himself. Might as well tell Wesker already and get it over with. Maybe if he laughed, that would drive the point home that it was impossible.

The only noticeable reaction that he got out of Wesker was a raised eyebrow. He didn't laugh or smile or frown. Just drove along quietly, looking from the windshield to Chris. More at Chris than the road, actually.

The brunette shrugged slightly, feeling defeated. Why couldn't he stop dwelling on this? Wesker wasn't the only one who had started to lose it after all of these years of horrors one after another. 

"We live together...in this beautiful house," he continued, rather sadly, "in a quiet neighborhood. The world never ended. There aren't any monsters. A-and, you love me."

“I love you now,” the blond man said shortly. He didn't look at Chris but pulled the car to a stop. “You just don't love me,” Wesker added bitterly, hopping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

Chris sat there alone in the jeep for what felt like a long time. 

"I don't?" He asked Wesker's seat glumly.  


* * *

  
“...Congratulations, then.”

“Thanks, I just wish the timing was better.”

Jake could hear Piers and Sherry talking as he came back to the room. Leon had sent him back after they couldn't track down the two men from earlier – but it wasn't like he had to ask twice.

The redhead closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, frowning. Two gun-wielding weirdos were on the loose somewhere in the base, and apparently didn't want to be found. He was a bit relieved to find Sherry and Piers exactly where he'd left them.

"How's the patient doing?" He asked as casually as he could, stepping over beside the bed and looking at the two of them.

“Jake!” Sherry sat up abruptly from where she had been laying on the cot – right next to Piers. She threw her arms around Jake's neck and kissed him. “I thought I wouldn't see you all day.” She said sadly.

Piers sat up too. He looked less pale then before. The brunette even had a slight blush to his cheeks.

Jake hugged her out of reflex, a bit startled. Not that that kept him from kissing back a little. Still, the moment his girlfriend wasn't kissing him, he shot a glance at Piers before turning back to her. 

"Yeah...Leon said he'd handle lookin' for those guys." 

Great, now it was going to bother him. Why was Sherry laying around in Piers' bed with him? It wasn't like the little brunette was in any shape to try anything, but Sherry seemed just about instantly fond of him... 

“They're missing? Great,” Sherry muttered, shaking her head. “I'm going to go grab something to eat – can you keep an eye on our little patient?”

“Hey,” Piers protested weakly, “You're short too.”

The small blond woman smiled up at Jake.

He hugged her a bit tighter, glancing at the door. The gun-toting guys could be anywhere out there, though...

Not that Sherry couldn't hold her own in a fight if necessary. She WAS a trained agent who had traveled the world before she ever met him and all that. Still.

"...Yeah, I got it covered," he told the blond, trying not to sound as reluctant as he was. Hey, it had been HIS plan that the two of them had to guard Piers at all times.

“Thanks babe,” Sherry chimed, ducking under his arm and heading out the door. She seemed to be in a good mood.

Rolling over onto his side, Piers pulled the blanket over his shoulders again and sighed.

Jake glanced at the door as it closed, then stepped over to sit on the chair beside the bed again. 

"Hey," he said conversationally.

Piers looked up at him from where he was, tucking his nose under his covers. 

“Hey.”

Jake poked at the edge of the blanket. 

"Are you cold or something?"

The gray eyed man pulled the blankets down a bit and frowned. 

“You didn't tell me you're going to be a dad. What the hell were you thinking – chasing after Wesker?” He rolled onto his back to fix Jake with a glare. “You could have been killed! What would happen to Sherry and the baby?” Piers actually looked mad now, but for some reason – he just looked cute.

Jake arched a brow. 

"Really? You just got here and you're gonna lecture me? Listen, Sherry and the kid are exactly WHY I went out there." He sat up a bit and scowled. "I thought my crazy dad might beat some information out of Redfield, and I had to prevent that. Wesker doesn't know about the baby — it's his grandkid, you realize that, right?"

“He doesn't even care about YOU!” The smaller man sat up, prodding Jake in the shoulder. “What makes you think he'd bat an eye about your baby?”

Jake blinked and looked down at the finger poking his shoulder. Was that supposed to be intimidating or something? 

"You're right, he doesn't care about me," he said flatly, grabbing Piers' hand to lift it off of his shoulder. 

...Except he kind of forgot to let go, frowning instead. "It's just my blood everybody's after. I've got crazy-strong antibodies, Sherry's got her super healing — how do ya think our baby's gonna turn out?"

Piers frowned, pulling to free his hand. He stared up at Jake – gray eyes scanning his face. 

“Well...” His anger passed as he thought it over for a second. “Good and bad. On one hand, Wesker won't want to kill it – but on the other, he might want to take it for his own purposes.” The brunette went back to tugging on his hand. “Could you let go?”

Jake responded by holding his hand up above their heads, raising an eyebrow. 

"Why, you have somewhere to run off to in a hurry?"

“Actually, yeah. I have to go save the captain!”

"It's still dark out there," Jake reminded him. "And you're not in any shape to walk that far OR save anybody, much less run from zombies." He paused, blinking. "Do they even chase after you?"

Piers sputtered. 

“What the hell's that supposed to mean? Of course they chase me!” He yanked on Jake's arm angrily again. “Let. Go!”

“Hey, hey.” Leon came inside, closing the door behind him. The blond agent looked a little panicked. “Jake, go find Sherry – Wesker's outside.” He came over to the bed. “You,” Leon pointed to Piers. “Stay in here and lock the door.”

Jake was on his feet instantly, but he didn't let go of Piers' hand. 

"He's here for Piers," he said matter-of-factly. "He'll come here first — if Sherry stays in the kitchen he won't even see her." 

Wesker had stayed there for weeks — he had to know where the medical room was. Now if Sherry just stayed away from the medical room...hopefully Leon wasn't going to raise any alarms, or the blond woman would go right where the fight was. She didn't seem to want to hang back any time there was an emergency.

“Piers? Why would he want Piers back?”

“He's trying to cure me,” the small brunette man said, glaring at Jake. 

“Huh. That's sounds...surprisingly nice of him,” Leon mumbled, rubbing his neck. He looked to Jake. “If you're sure, I'll try to keep Sherry in the kitchen.” The blond shook his head. “She's not going to like it though.”

"Yeah, well say it like it's her keeping our baby in the kitchen and she might get why, at least," Jake grumbled, glancing down at Piers again. Realizing he still had a pretty tight grip on the brunette's arm, he placed Piers' hand down onto the blanket carefully and let go. 

“Will do – then I'll meet you upstairs at the gate.” He said, ducking back out the door. As soon as he was gone, Piers threw off his blanket and slung his legs over the side of the bed.

Jake put both hands on his shoulders, frowning. 

"Where are you even gonna go? You can barely stand — fightin' him would just be dumb!"

“I won't fight,” Piers growled, pushing Jake's hands away. “I just think I should be there. The captain might need me.”

Captain this, captain that. Jake suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, offering the smaller man a hand. 

"Fine, but lemme help you walk or you'll slow me down." Leon hadn't even said that Chris was along with Wesker...

Ignoring his hand, Piers wrapped an arm around Jake's neck and started towards the door. 

The redhead put an arm around his waist in return and walked along at a steady pace. Picking Piers up would be a lot faster...but if Wesker was actually standing outside the door, he could damn well wait a few more minutes.  


* * *

  
Waiting outside of the gate was eerie. The few zombies that wandered too close were taken out by Wesker. Chris knew that the people inside could see them – there were several cameras mounted on the exterior of the gate. After what seemed like forever, the gates began to open loudly. Wesker returned to his side, a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

Chris ran his fingers through his hair and patted the butterfly bandages on his forehead to be sure that they weren't falling off. His head still throbbed pretty bad, but the dizziness had faded while in the car--thank goodness. He felt useless if he couldn't stay on his feet. 

"Let me talk to them," he told Wesker quietly, watching the gates move.

Wesker looked from the massive gates to him slowly. 

“Fine.” He made no effort to move, though, and watched as the doors finally opened fully. Leon wasn't there. Instead, Jake and Piers stood on the raised platform. “That makes things easier,” the blond man beside him said quietly.

Chris blinked. Why were they coming out to meet him and Wesker? Maybe they'd realized Piers needed continued treatments, too. 

"Jake," he called up, holding up a hand. "Piers, I know this will sound strange, but you have to let Wesker treat you."

Jake promptly shot the blond man a glare. 

"And why the hell should we do that? I'm not seein' much incentive, here."

Wesker stepped past Chris to look up at his son. 

“His treatment is temporary. If he doesn't get another shot soon, he'll revert to his J'avo form.” He held up a gloved hand. “Give him to me now.” Piers wrinkled his nose at the sound of that, but glared down at Wesker too.

Jake's blue eyes narrowed. He moved Piers' arm off of his shoulder, but only to step in front of the smaller man. 

"How about NO," he said flatly, crossing his arms.

"Piers." Chris looked up at the brunette worriedly. Clearly letting Jake OR Wesker do the talking wasn't working so far.

“Captain?” Piers said, leaning a hand on Jake's shoulder to step past him. He looked much better than last time Chris had seen him. The scar like patches of skin on his cheek and arm had faded several shades, but they were still visible. He looked worriedly at Chris. “Are you okay? How's your head?”

Wesker didn't move back from the platform – instead eying Piers intently as he came closer.

Chris glanced back at him, then returned his attention to Piers, stepping up to the side of the platform to reach a hand up. 

"Hey," he said, sighing. "I'll be fine — it's just a bump. Please just listen to me a minute. Okay?"

Jake frowned down at him, edging a bit closer to Piers like Wesker might hop onto the platform and snatch him away. With the way people talked about Wesker's speed, Chris couldn't actually blame him for being that on-guard.

As Piers took his hand, he heard Wesker take a quiet step closer to him as well. 

“I'm listening, captain,” the small soldier assured him. 

Chris squeezed his hand tightly and nodded. 

"I'm not asking you to go back with him. We brought everything along to treat you." He added more quietly, "Piers...listen, you did this to yourself to save my life. Now I think we have a way to save yours. Please."

Jake gave Wesker a warning look and put his arm around Piers' shoulders.

The gray eyed man looked up at Wesker with a frown. Even in the rising sun, Chris could tell something about his eyes was still different. They glinted. He nodded. 

“I trust you, captain.”

“Hey Chris!” Leon said as he ran out of the tunnel behind the younger men. He looked over at the former mad scientist and cringed. “Wesker.”

“Logan,” Wesker said calmly in return.

“It's Leon, actually,” The ex-agent muttered, kneeling on the other side of Piers and turning his attention back to Chris. “How's your head? Did you find your marbles?”

"I know it's hard to believe, but we need to work together," Chris sighed, turning to him. "Wesker has a cure for Piers — it's temporary, but it's how he's even the way he is right now." 

Taking advantage of Wesker and Chris being distracted with Leon's arrival, Jake nudged Piers' side lightly. 

"What do you wanna do?" He asked the brunette softly, glancing at the others sidelong. "Do you really need shots to stay human, or are they full of shit?"

Returning an arm around the redhead's neck, Piers looked up at him closely. 

“I-I don't want to be a zombie,” he admitted sadly. “I wanted a way out – and if the captain says Wesker has one, I'll take it.”

Without warning, Wesker hopped lightly up onto the platform. Leon backed away – a hand already on his gun.

"Leon, don't," Chris said quickly, holding up a hand. He glanced up at Wesker and suddenly felt very tired. "We'll need to carry in the supplies."

Jake sighed and picked Piers up easily. As he turned to head back inside, he paused and looked at Wesker flatly for a long moment. So this was his father, then. The reason people from around the world had tried to hunt him down and steal samples of his blood. The person his mother wrote about so lovingly in her letters, and swore still loved her — and him. Yeah, right.

"Thought you'd be taller," he muttered, turning and heading into the base.

Wesker knelt and offered Chris a hand up silently.

Chris took his hand without hesitation, reaching up with the other to grab the edge of the platform and start to climb up. 

Dropping his duffel bag off to the side, Wesker pulled him up easily with just one hand. 

Leon joined them, staying on the opposite side of Chris than Wesker was and grabbed the muscular man's arm. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? We've tried this before and it didn't work,” he said quietly.

Wesker was standing right there and glanced down the tunnel after Piers and Jake.

"I would've stayed away from everybody awhile," Chris told Leon quietly in return, sighing. "But Jake took Piers. I'm still amazed he's really here, I-I thought he was dead."

“We should go inside,” Wesker interrupted, taking Chris by the arm as he passed to the tunnel. “The sooner he receives the treatment the better, Chris.”

Leon trailed after them unhappily. 

“He better not grow tentacles.” He shook his head, waving to a guard they passed by the gates. “Hey George – get the crates out of the truck and put them in the medical room.”

“Is he okay?” Sherry asked as Jake entered the room, Piers in his arms. She came over to his side. 

“I'm fine,” the smaller man said, waving a hand. “But you shouldn't be in here!”

“Why?” The blond girl asked.

Jake seemed particularly scowly at the moment. He placed Piers carefully onto the bed on his back, putting the blankets back over him. 

"Wesker's coming. Redfield brought him back with him," he said flatly.

Sherry covered her mouth with a small hand. 

“And you guys let him in?”

“The blanket is unnecessary.” Sherry spun around to see Wesker enter the room, Chris and Leon in tow. “Move,” he said shortly to the little blond.

"Hey, watch it!" Jake glared at him, a hand already reaching over to wrap around Sherry's shoulders. He steered her around to the other side of the bed, placing it — and himself and Piers — between her and the blond man.

Chris sighed again. Jake and Wesker really shouldn't have been in the same room together, never mind Jake along with Sherry. The redhead was extremely protective of his girlfriend, even though technically she'd heal up from almost any injury pretty fast anyway. 

Wesker ignored them and sat down on the bed beside Piers. He rifled through his bag, pulling out a strange tube. Removing the cap and pressing the back revealed it to be some kind of syringe. The blond man took Piers' arm gently and pressed the needle in.

The brunette patient cringed.

Jake watched every move he made with the kind of suspicion one usually reserved for somebody holding a loaded weapon.

Chris, meanwhile, sank into the chair that had been pushed aside, resting his head on one hand. Now that they weren't hurrying here, he was pretty exhausted. It didn't make sense to be, considering how much time he'd spent unconscious lately, but there it was.

With the skill of a doctor, Wesker removed the needle and cleaned up the bleeding spot it left. 

“We've been through this before – but this time, I recommend you stay in your bed.” He smoothed a small bandaid over Piers' arm. The tiny motion seemed unusually gentle for him. “You'll be woozy for a few hours.”

“I'm still woozy from the last shot,” his patient grumbled, pulling his arm away.

“Okay, now that that's settled – who wants breakfast?” Leon asked hopefully, placing a hand on Chris's shoulder and smiling. “Maybe some coffee?”  


* * *

  
The coffee helped. Chris's head felt a lot better now and as he guided Piers down the narrow tunnels, he had a strange feeling of contentment.

Wesker trailed silently after them, glancing at the passersby. Most people simply shut their doors.

The short brunette smiled at him hazily, walking slowly alongside his captain. 

"This almost feels like old times," Chris commented to him softly, mustering a small, weary smile. Most thoughts back on the BSAA were bittersweet at best. After he lost his team over and over, Piers was the only good thing left from those days — and then he'd lost him, too. 

Not before the poor guy had his arm cut off, though. Chris glanced down at Piers' right arm thoughtfully. It had not only grown back, but it looked human, not some J'avo tendril thing like it had been before. 

Piers followed his gaze and held up his hands, wiggling the fingers. 

“Almost.”

The familiar click of Wesker's boots stopped abruptly.

Chris paused and glanced back at him, wondering why he wasn't following. 

Wesker was gone.

Piers glanced back too, looking around the hallway in confusion. “You okay, captain?”

Chris blinked, turning back to meet his eyes. Wesker...could go off by himself if he wanted to, really. It wasn't like anybody here could actually stop him. Chris had to wonder where he was going, though.

"I'm fine," he assured Piers, patting his shoulder. He turned to face the small soldier, placing one hand on each shoulder. "...Piers, I can't thank you enough for what you did for me. You didn't just save my life — you made sure Claire had someone left, and everyone here had someone to look after them." 

Piers' reaction sent a chill up his spine. He leaned forward and laughed. It had a strange unhinged sound to it. He suddenly sat back up and looked alarmed. 

“Ah. You...you're welcome.” The smaller man put a hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Who was that guy?”

Chris patted his back, trying not to look as alarmed as he was about the crazy laughter. Wesker — it sounded just like Wesker when he was on one of his tirades about becoming a god. 

"Which guy, Piers?" He asked the other brunette, starting to lead him down the hallway again.

“The one...” Piers frowned. “The guy with the scar. I can't remember his name – I know it, but I just...can't.” He looked up at Chris sadly. “Should I report to medical, captain?”

Concerned, Chris examined his face carefully, then felt his forehead. 

"...I'll walk you there. I'm sure you'll be fine, you just need to rest up awhile." He slowly turned them around and started leading Piers the other way. "The guy with the scar is Jake, by the way."

“Jake, of course. I'm sorry, captain.” Looking dizzily around the tunnels, Piers seemed very lost. “Where are we going?”

Chris paused, turning to him. 

"You don't remember?" They had just said that they were going to the medical room only a few minutes ago. He frowned and offered the younger man one of his hands. "Let me carry you — we'll move much quicker."

“No, I can walk,” Piers assured him, starting back down the tunnel. Fortunately they hadn't gone very far.

"Okay," Chris agreed easily, falling into step beside him. He glanced at Piers worriedly. "...Still don't remember where we're headed?"

“Medical,” the small man said confidently. He walked easily up the slanted hall, glancing back at Chris. “What happened to your head?”

"Uh. A car hood," Chris replied, hurrying after him. "How are you feeling? You seem like you're not so dizzy anymore, at least."

“I'm fine, captain. I'm more worried about your head.” Piers smiled again, poking his own forehead where Chris had been hit. His smiled fade and he hunched forward and gritted his teeth in pain. “Ahh! What the hell?”

Wesker was waiting in front of the medical room, leaned casually against the door frame like he was expecting them. He pushed off of it and headed their way slowly.

"Piers!" Chris reached to support him, startled by the sudden change from smiling to pain. "Are you okay? Wesker, is this normal?" He asked the blond, seeing him approaching them.

Wesker stepped up to, sliding an arm around Piers' waist. 

“Side effects vary.”

Piers screamed hoarsely, digging his nails into his temples hard enough to draw blood. The tall blond beside him snatched his wrists and forced his hands away from his head. 

Struggling, the small brunette actually yanked his hands free – turning and striking Wesker in the chest. Amazingly, the black clad man flinched. 

Before he could react – Piers elbowed Chris back with shocking strength and took off down the tunnel again at a full run.

Wesker got back up, clutching his stomach and snarling. “No, this is what happens when we wait too long!” With a growl of frustration, he zipped after the escaping man.


	8. Psychic Powers

Chris charged after him without really taking any time to get back the breath that had been knocked out of him. Piers was reverting back to his J'avo form? That explained the crazy strength. Wesker sounded like he was familiar with this, so it had to be reversible, right?

Piers didn't make it very far – slamming straight into Jake as he came out of the cafeteria. Sherry dropped her food tray, sending rolls and chili splattering across the ground. She gasped at seeing the blood on Piers.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?”

The brunette snarled, snapping his teeth loudly at Jake's face. Wesker was at his side instantly. He grabbed Piers by the arm – throwing him to the ground and pinning him down.

“Enough!”

Chris skidded to a stop just in time to avoid stepping on anybody. Jake, meanwhile, had rolled off to the side a bit and jumped back to his feet. 

"What the hell's goin' on?! Why's he bloody?" He demanded, glaring at Wesker like that must be his fault somehow. Piers was pretty obviously trying to bite people, but hell, Wesker's treatment was supposed to help that, so if it failed it was still his fault.

“He's usually strapped down for this part. He should have a build up of the treatment in his blood by now.” The blond said calmly, focusing on keeping Piers' right arm away from him. “Something is not right...” He added, more to himself than anyone else. Wesker sat up a bit to look at Chris and reassure him. “He'll be fine in a few minutes. It comes and goes.”

Sherry circled over to Jake, staring at Piers with wide blue eyes. 

“It'll happen again?”

Wesker glanced at her like he was noticing her for the first time and nodded. 

“Yes, hopefully not this severely.”

Piers writhed on the floor – kicking his legs furiously and slathering.

Chris lingered nearby, unsure what he could do to help. He tried to focus on Wesker and not Piers — this was the only time he'd ever actually seen Piers behave like one of those crazed J'avo soldiers. 

Jake was not so silent. 

"What did you inject him with?" He demanded of Wesker — not loudly, but coldly. It made him look and sound an awful lot like a younger mirror image of the blond. "If it was supposed to HELP, I'd say you failed." 

“The M-virus from my blood is very strong. His body takes to it surprisingly well – except for the J'avo strain. It seems to cause fits and delusions until the M-virus regains control.” Wesker looked down at Piers. The small brunette had quieted down, but sounded like he was having trouble breathing – wheezing loudly.

“He's going to need more frequent doses until I find a way to suppress it better.” Wesker tilted his head thoughtfully. “If it were just the Progenitor in his system, he'd be like me by now. But first I have to find a cure for the J'avo.” He glared back at Jake through his sunglasses. “Until then, I can only HELP him from turning so much. If you prefer, we can skip his next injection.”

Wesker sighed – more in annoyance than anything else. He looked up to Chris again. “I need to get him back up to the medical room. Stand back.” The irritated blond glanced at Sherry and Jake pointedly. “He's infectious.” 

Sherry cringed and stayed safely behind Jake. It was unlikely that either of them would be infected even if bitten – but the baby was another story.

Chris nodded and stepped back, glancing at Sherry and Jake as he did so. The talk of various viruses didn't really explain much for him — he had a basic understanding of what kind of creatures each type spawned, but no idea how they interacted with each other in a person who was infected with more than one. Well, besides Wesker...Wesker seemed to be special, at any rate.

Jake stepped forward instead, holding out a hand. 

"Won't infect me, lemme help."

“Don't touch his right arm,” Wesker warned, crawling off of the snarling brunette. Despite his warning to Jake, he kept a crushing grasp on Piers' right wrist. The small soldier immediately started struggling as soon as he was up, rolling around Wesker's feet and clawing for Chris.

Jake snagged his left wrist while he was distracted by Chris, hauling him to his feet. 

"He's gonna hurt himself at this rate," he muttered, frowning as he again noted the blood on Piers' head. It just looked like scratches from fingernails, though, nothing serious. "What's wrong with his right arm?" He added to Wesker without looking back at him as they started toward medical again.

“He seems to be able to send out massive electrical shocks with it. I thought the M-virus would get rid of it, but he needs a larger build up first,” Wesker explained calmly, directing Piers' arm as far away from Chris as possible. He was the only one there it might kill. Between the two of them, Piers was easy to control. The patches down his left cheek and side had darkened again.

"How's building up another virus GOOD for him?" Jake grumbled, glancing down at the little brunette as they walked. 

Naturally, Piers looked none too pleased with the situation — or sane, for that matter. There was definitely not much recognition in his eyes at the moment, and that glint from before had seemed to take over, making them look almost white instead of gray. 

“As I said,” Wesker muttered in return, “he's taking to the Progenitor virus well.” He shook his head, realizing that his explanation would probably be lost on Jake. “It will keep the other viruses at bay. It will heal him. Keep him human. Control the J'avo,” he said slowly. Sherry would probably understand better then Jake, and she had only been a child when her father died.

Birkin. Wesker eyed the blond woman curiously.

"If it was really THAT great, it wouldn't be temporary." Jake glanced back at him. He frowned. "Wait...so you're saying this Progenitor thing is a virus, but it works like my antibodies?"

Wesker stared at him, shaking his head. 

“I would have to examine your blood.”

“Captain?” Piers said suddenly, leaning back against Jake and twisting to see his face. “Jake? Where...where are we?” 

The redhead immediately turned his attention to Piers, pausing and looking down at his eyes carefully. 

"Headin' back to the medical room," he said. "You had sort of an episode — you remember any of that?"

Piers frowned firmly, trying to reach a hand for his head. His eyes were glinting yellow more than gray, though. 

“Episode? Oh god. Captain!” He twisted in their grip to look for Chris. Wesker stopped him abruptly, turning him back down toward the medical room.

“He's fine. Keep moving.”

"Right behind you," Chris called, trying to reassure him a little.

Jake frowned and looked ahead of them, starting to lead Piers down the hallway again. Clearly Piers did not remember everything that had just happened, or if he did then it was in a jumble still. 

"Nobody got hurt," he told the brunette evenly.

When they finally made it inside the medical room, Wesker half dragged Piers over to his cot and sat him on it. 

“Stay.” He paced across the room to his duffel bag and rummaged for something.

Sherry stepped inside, coming over to take Piers' hand. 

“Hey. We're all okay. You just sort of rolled around on the floor.” She gave him a sweet smile.

"And drooled a lot," Jake added less sweetly. He took the front of the borrowed T-shirt Piers was still wearing and wiped his chin with it pointedly. With anybody else he might've just left it at that, but for some reason he felt a little bad about the retort, and patted Piers on the back afterward, glancing at Wesker. Was he going to give Piers more of whatever "cure" he had, or was he digging for restraints?

The powerful blond man had pulled a tablet out of his bag and was poking at it quietly. He came back over to Piers. 

“You injected yourself with the enhanced C-virus.”

Piers blinked up at him. 

“Yeah?”

Wesker paced for a moment, cradling the tablet close. 

“We need to continue your treatment for now. Whoever made the enhanced C-virus was a fool – it needs to be purified. The J'avo virus in your system is too sporadic. Every time you start to turn, it can cause mutations. The M-virus is the only reason you are as sane and human looking as you are.” He picked up Piers' hand – away from Sherry – and examined it. “It'll take time to isolate more from my blood.”

It was a little strange to hear Wesker actually explaining what he was doing instead of laughing or smirking. Really strange.

"Wait — you're making this treatment from your blood?" Chris asked, staring. "Don't you have strains in your blood that he never got from the J'avo in the first place?" 

That seemed like it would make things worse to him. His understanding of how the viruses interacted was very fuzzy, but from what he could tell, Wesker was treating Piers' current virus by infecting him with MORE viruses.

"C-virus," Jake added, straightening up. "That's the one my antibodies are for — the C-virus. Sherry told me about it." He glanced at his girlfriend quickly.

She looked back at him and nodded, but Wesker replied first.

“Yes. The C-virus and the M-virus are the key to the cure. The J'avo strain had infected him severely when I started – however,” he pushed up his shades, “the viruses in our blood eliminate it. I have been using mine as a basis for a cure – but the viruses that remain are not making it a simple task.”

Wesker paused to look at Chris. It seemed very random – almost like he had just realized that the muscly man had spoken and was checking to make sure he was still there. Spotting Chris, he turned back to Piers, Jake and Sherry.

“I need a sample of your blood. All of you.”

As if being glanced at was some kind of comment to stay out of the science conversation way over his head, Chris retreated to sit in the chair again rather than reply.

Jake promptly shook his head, practically stepping in front of Sherry rather than let Wesker too close. 

"We've been experimented on more than enough already. You'd think if blood from me or her could make a cure, one of the scientists who had us prisoner for six months would've figured it out already."

“Hardly. They only understood a fraction of what they were toying with.” Wesker looked at Piers intently, closing the tablet. “But if you insist on being difficult, I'll have no choice.”

As if on cue, Jake pulled the brunette closer to his side as well. 

"You'll do what, exactly? You talk like you're in charge or somethin' — we DON'T have to take orders from you."

"He's trying to help Piers," Chris spoke up, sounding weary. "Nobody's gonna be turned into a lab subject." He looked over at Wesker pointedly.

Wesker watched Jake with mild amusement. 

“My point is, I'll have to use my blood to keep creating treatments.” He gestured to Piers casually. “It's going to be very painful.” With a smirk, he stepped over next to Chris. “I don't care either way.”

Sherry stepped around Piers and Jake. 

“Will he keep freaking out?”

Wesker moved back closer. There was a full foot of height difference. 

“As long as we keep treating him, it should stop soon.”

"But only if you keep treating him," Jake concluded, looking down at Piers with a small frown. He glanced at Sherry next. "...If you got samples from me and Sherry, would you MIX them with yours, or use 'em instead of yours?"

“At that point, it would be pointless to use mine – you have the strain that I'm looking for.” 

“You don't have to do this,” Piers said to Jake, putting a little space between them. “I'll be okay.”

The redhead crossed his arms, his frown deepening. 

"So, just me. You don't need any blood from Sherry."

An eerie smile spread across Wesker's face. 

“The C-virus is a combination of the G-virus,” he gestured to Sherry, circling her in an almost shark-like manner, “And the T-Veronica virus. It would make creating a lasting cure significantly faster, but it's not required.”

Sherry watched him circle her, scooting over next to Chris.

“I'll do it if you can tell me why YOU'RE doin' it,” Jake replied, watching him with a frown. “Why cure him? You just said flat-out you don't give a damn if he suffers.”

Chris glanced up at Sherry as she inched closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. He looked back at Wesker when Jake spoke up, though. He still didn't know why Wesker was bothering with Piers, either.

Wesker looked down his nose at his son, red eyes shifting behind his sunglasses. 

“Clearly, my genius intellect skipped a generation.”

Jake heard a soft snicker from his side and caught a small smile on Piers' face before he managed to stifle it. He bit his lip and glanced up at Jake with shy gray eyes – smiling warmly. It was the first time Piers had ever smiled at him.

Across the room though, Sherry looked very worried.

Jake was about to toss some snide remark back at Wesker, but Piers' smile left him too bewildered. Why was that so...cute? He was hard not to stare at before, but a genuine smile was something else. 

The redhead blinked at Piers for a moment, then abruptly turned around and headed straight for Wesker. 

"C'mere a second, DAD." He waved the blond man after him and headed straight past him out the door.

Sherry cringed and hugged onto Chris's arm. 

“This is not good...”

Tilting his head curiously, Wesker followed after him – giving Chris a little nod on his way past.  


* * *

  
Jake hadn't stopped by the door — he'd paced a good ten feet down the hallway, and only turned around when he heard Wesker close the door behind them. 

Crossing his arms, he shot Wesker a flat look. 

"Let's clarify a couple things."

“Agreed.” The blond man said coldly, tugging on the edges of his gloves.

Hearing no follow-up to that, Jake frowned and pointed at him. 

"We may have some blood in common, but you're NOT family. I'm not callin' you my dad, and you can take your 'genius intellect' and shove it." 

Wesker took his time to reply, watching Jake intently. At long last, he frowned. 

“I have no interest in you.”

"Never met you before today, but gee, I had NO clue," Jake said flatly. He held up both hands and shrugged. "Hey, works for me, psycho. If fixing Piers didn't need my blood and your brain, I wouldn't even be talkin' to you."

The eerie man stepped a little closer. 

“Agreed. And once he's cured – stay away from him,” he added lowly. 

Jake's blue eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, too, crossing his arms again. 

"Or what? I don't take orders from you."

“The people around you are not like us. They can die,” Wesker said matter of factly. The blond turned and headed back toward the medical room. “Including Piers.”

Jake watched him silently, scowling. What was that supposed to mean? It wasn't like he was some undead freak who never aged anymore like Wesker...right? 

Everybody looked up at once when Wesker stepped back into the room. When Jake didn't step back inside with him, Chris got up and moved over near the door, looking at the blond man in a questioning way.

Wesker met his gaze and paused in front of him, pushing up his sunglasses silently.

Behind Chris, Sherry bit her thumbnail nervously.

"Wesker-" Chris began, but cut himself off as Jake stepped through the door. The redhead headed straight past them without a backwards glance at Wesker, stepping over to Sherry and Piers.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sherry gave him a loose hug from behind. 

“Don't do that.”

Piers had sat back down on the bed while the two Weskers had their chat. He looked up at Jake in concern as well, checking him over for scuff marks. 

“Everything okay?”

Jake half-turned to put an arm over Sherry's shoulders, hugging her and glancing at the brunette. 

"Don't even worry about it."

Chris closed the hallway door and stood looking at it tiredly. He'd been expecting a confrontation of some sort between Wesker and Jake, but there had been no apparent violence as a result. Maybe keeping them apart before had been the wrong call.

"Can you really cure Piers?" He asked Wesker quietly after a moment.

The blond moved up beside him, resting a gloved fist on the door. 

“With their blood – yes.” Wesker suddenly placed a hand on Chris's arm, lowering his voice too. “Are you okay?”

The brunette glanced at his hand, his brows furrowing a little. He wasn't sure what the answer to that question was at the moment, and it was the last thing he'd expected Wesker to ask out of the blue. 

"Fine," he said finally, studying the dark lenses over the blond man's eyes. "...How much blood do you need from them? Is it going to be a lot?"

“I may need multiple samples, but it should be a minimal amount,” Wesker said, keeping his hand on Chris's arm. “You should rest,” he added quietly. 

Chris sighed. He knew that he should lay down — between the way his chest was still aching and how his head throbbed, he definitely could use the rest. And drifting off to sleep and waking up beside the other Wesker didn't sound so bad... 

But the others didn't trust Wesker. Chris was sure the man wouldn't harm HIM, but he wasn't so certain about the others. It came down to whether he was able to actually trust Wesker. It was one thing to risk his own life, but leaving Jake and Sherry and Piers under his supervision...

"They wouldn't want me to leave," he told Wesker reluctantly, gesturing to the other inhabitants of the room.

Jake was still hugging Sherry, leaning close to the side of Piers' bed to talk to him as well.

“I...could come with you,” his former rival whispered, gloved hand trailing down Chris's arm. But Wesker had apparently been sneaking off last time he was here – and he had been locked into a cell, connected to half a dozen alarms. Perhaps there really wasn't any way to contain him?

Piers leaned around Jake, outright glaring at Wesker now. The powerful blond seemed to have a talent for manipulating Chris – especially since the captain was tired. And injured. 

Sherry followed his gaze, cheeks turning pink.

Jake followed their gaze, too, and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. They were real subtle over there. Letting go of Sherry, the redhead shrugged off his jacket and waved his arm in Wesker's general direction.

"Hey, are we gonna do this blood sample thing today? You made it sound like makin' a cure would take awhile!"

Chris definitely jumped at the sudden hollering from across the room, glancing their way.

Wesker, however, completely ignored them. 

“What can I do to make you trust me?” He asked quietly – finally removing his hand. “We agreed not to fight anymore and I won't.” Knowing Wesker, that didn't include smack downs...

Chris brought a hand up to his head and rubbed his temple, looking at the blond again wearily. 

"We'll talk. I promise. I-I just can't right now," he answered. Defeatedly, he added, "I'll lay down." 

Wesker opened the medical room door – only to have Leon come stumbling inside. He caught him easily and the agent stiffened, realizing instantly whose arms he was in.

He pushed away from Wesker, backing right into Chris. Raising a finger like he was going to say something to the creepy blond, he thought better of it and turned around to his friend. 

“Chris, we have a problem.” He gestured back outside of the room quickly. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Chris glanced at Wesker and promptly headed out the door. 

"Yeah, of course."

Leon went after him, glancing back at the three people across the room curiously.

He shut the door in Wesker's face and turned to Chris. 

“I can't find those two guys. We've been in every room and every tunnel in this place. There must be a hidden section we missed.” Leon shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Who knows what might be in there.”

"Are you sure they didn't just leave?" Chris asked solemnly, trying to remember which guys Leon was referring to. He'd probably heard it at some point.

“I thought of that, sure. But the only way that I know of out of here is through the front gate – and it hasn't been opened for anyone but you and Wesker.” He paced a few steps, crossing his arms. “The rest of the base is underwater. I guess they could have swam,” he said dubiously. “But that still means an entrance that we don't have on camera.”

Chris turned to keep facing him as he walked. 

"Anything I can do to help?"

Leon shook his head. 

“No. I just thought you should know.” He waved back in the direction of the medical room. “I know you have your hands full, but this place is crazy right now. Everyone's freaking out about Wesker being back and then these two creeps go missing...” The blond sighed. “Just keep your door locked if possible. They saw you and Wesker arrive – they probably put together that you might be some kind of...” He trailed off, fumbling for words. “Bargaining token.” Leon glanced at him sideways. “Which uh, brings me to another conversation.”

Chris blinked at him. Bargaining token? Leon thought somebody might try to use him as leverage against Wesker?

"Uh. Go ahead," he said, sighing a little. "I-I know this doesn't look great."

“I...have n-no way of saying this that doesn't make it sound...just...” The blond shook his head and groaned. “Okay.” He paused mid-stride and turned to Chris, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Do what you have to to keep Wesker in check.” He cringed and stared at Chris, clearly hoping the muscular man caught on to what he was trying to imply. “You know. He wants YOU,” he gestured to Chris. “And so...you know.”

"That's..." Chris fidgeted, glancing at the door and then back to Leon. Deep breath. "Listen, I'm not just 'keeping Wesker in check'. That's not what this is," he said tiredly. "I-I'm not sure what this is yet."

Leon held up his hands defensively. 

“I'm not trying to be nosy, I just hope you know what you're doing.” He put his hands down. “You suddenly deciding to stay with him earlier didn't exactly set everyone's mind at ease...and I might have...” He trailed off into a mumble.

"Might have what?" Chris asked uneasily. He wasn't angry at Leon for his comments — really, he appreciated his friend's honesty, actually — but he was too tired to feign amusement, either. This was a big tangled mess of a situation.

Leon clasped his hands together and shrugged. 

“Claire knows.”

"About...Wesker," Chris stated, blinking.

“Yep,” his friend said, peering back up the tunnel. “She sort of freaked out.”

"..." Chris put a hand over his face and sighed. "I'll...talk to her."

“I'm sorry,” Leon mumbled, shaking his head. He looked almost as tired as Chris did. “Do you want me to keep an eye on Wesker?”

"Could you?" Chris looked at him again, mustering a small smile. "I really need to lay down for a bit — the bump on the head isn't the only injury I've got." Realizing how that sounded, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Uh. It was an accident, even Wesker forgets how strong he is sometimes I guess."

A rather wry smile spread across Leon's face and he nodded, trying to hide a chuckle. 

“Sure. Just take it easy.” He shook his head and snickered, heading back up the tunnel.

"I'll talk to Claire when I get back," Chris called after him, sighing. "Tell Wesker I went to lay down." 

He turned and started down the hallway, wondering if Leon's concerns about somebody using him a bargain chip could have any merit. Even if they did, he doubted anybody who tried it could hold up to Wesker in a fight. Even he couldn't anymore.  


* * *

  
“...Two kids, a big house and a cool husband.” The words seemed to echo into Chris's ears for a second, then he opened his eyes. Joseph stared at him curiously from across the table, large mug of coffee in hand. “You okay, man?”

The brunette felt a small hand tug at his shirt. 

“Dad! Can we go outside?!” Piers asked excitedly, holding up his little helicopter and pointing at his brother.

He was dreaming again.

Chris focused on the helicopter for a moment, blinking. The little helicopter still looked clean and brand new. Was this still the same visit with Joseph as last time? 

"I'm okay," he said, looking to Joseph next and trying to hide his disorientation under a smile. "Sorry, I was just thinking about something. Maybe we should get up and walk around a bit, huh?"

Piers looked so young. With the adult Piers still fresh in his mind, it was stunning all over again to see him as a little kid. 

Taking that as a yes, his kids bolted from the room. Joseph got up too and shrugged. 

“Okay.” He rubbed his neck. “Was that something Wesker?”

Chris stood, too, pushing his chair back close to the table before reaching for his coffee mug. 

"Yeah," he admitted. Well, it was more or less true. "You know those dreams I was telling you about?"

“The ones with all the creepy stuff? Yeah. Kinda hard to forget.”

"Sorry," Chris sighed. He looked into his coffee cup. "They're changing lately. He came back again, after I killed him, only he's trying not to hurt me this time." 

He glanced after the kids and started that way rather slowly. They shouldn't really be unsupervised...even though it was just the front yard.

“But he's still crazy? Sounds like a bad idea to me.” the tanned man sighed, sipping his coffee.

There was an excited childish squeal from outside.

“Hey cutie!” He could barely make out his sister's voice outside through the forgotten front door. Claire paused to sweep Jake up into her arms – planting a big kiss on his tiny cheek. “Are you supposed to be outside?”

She was dressed in a red cotton dress and heels, but what caught Chris's attention was the man standing behind her. It was Leon. He looked much less tired than he did in real life, but it was definitely him. He watched Claire tormenting Jake with mild amusement.

"Leggo! Dad said I could go out," Jake grumbled, wriggling in her grip and hugging his toy tank with one arm. 

Stepping outside with his coffee mug still in hand, Chris waved at them and smiled. 

"Hey Leon. Careful, Jake will get mud on your dress," he added to Claire. 

"Yeah," Jake pouted, looking up at her.

Both Claire and Leon stared up at him like they had seen a ghost. The auburn haired woman sat Jake down and came over to Chris, still wide-eyed. 

“How'd you...you two know each other?” She managed at last, glancing between her brother and Leon.

Leon held up his hands and shook his head. 

“I don't know. Have we met?” He frowned at Chris very curiously, squinting. “I'm usually pretty good with faces.”

Piers lost interest in the conversation, beckoning to his brother to come and play on the lawn.

Jake dashed off to play with Piers while Claire was distracted. A play battle with their toy helicopter, tank, some mud and a plastic dinosaur promptly ensued.

Chris glanced between the two of them uneasily. Great — of course, why didn't he think of that? If he could be best friends with Joseph here when he'd really barely known the guy, then his actual best friend could be...a total stranger. 

"Uh. I-I don't know, I just looked at you and 'Leon' is the name that came to mind," he said sheepishly. It wasn't a lie, exactly, but what explanation would possibly work? That he was psychic?

“Uh huh. Right.” The handsome blond turned to Claire and raised an eyebrow. “Is your brother always psychic or...? Because that might be a little weird with us dating.”

Claire shook her head and sighed heavily. 

“Chris, this is my date – but I guess you already know his name so...yeah.” She gestured to Leon half halfheartedly. She looked off across the yard and lowered her voice. “Is Al okay?”

Chris looked at the two of them a bit weirdly. Dating? Wow. 

"Uh. Sorry. It's nice to meet you, Leon," he told the blond, offering a hand. It felt very strange to be introducing himself to the same guy he'd been confiding details of his love life to a little while ago. 

That last part sank in only after a moment, and he glanced at Claire quickly. "Al? Who's...?"

Leon took the hand he was offered and shook it politely. 

“A pleasure.”

“God Chris, are YOU okay?” His sister hissed, sitting a hand on his shoulder. “Your HUSBAND.”

“Husband?” Leon echoed, retrieving his hand. He stared at Chris. “You're gay?”

“Leon, shut up.” Claire sighed. “I saw Al climbing into the neighbor's yard when we pulled up.”

That...didn't sound like a good thing. Chris turned back to Leon, looked him in the eye and nodded. 

"Yeah, I've got a husband and kids. If that bothers you, dating Claire's probably not gonna work out." He sighed and headed past his sister, making a beeline for the neighbor in the direction she was looking.

To his surprise, Leon fell in step beside him. 

“I don't have a problem with it – you just don't strike me as gay. You're...huge,” the blond said playfully. He didn't seem to be as bothered as he had been in the real world. “Just didn't expect it.”

Claire hesitated to follow, looking at Joseph who had been standing quietly in the door the whole time. 

“Where are you going?” She called after Chris and Leon.

Chris waved over his shoulder to acknowledge her. 

"We're gonna find Wesker. Uh. Al," he clarified. "Keep an eye on the boys, be right back!" Aside to Leon, he offered a small smile in return. "Not everybody's a walking stereotype."

“Yeah. Everybody thinks I'm gay, so I can't say much.” The blond shrugged a shoulder. “So...ex-military, huh?” Leon said nervously. “That's great. So if I mess up, they'll never find the body.” He shrugged again.

Chris glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. 

"Did Claire tell you I was in the Air Force, or was me calling my husband his surname the first clue?" He paused as they reached the fence.

“Claire's exact words were 'he's used to be in the Air Force, but he's settled down now.'” Leon smirked. “Hey, which one of you do I call Mr. Wesker? You or your hubby?”

“Who's this?” Speaking of husbands, Wesker poked his head over the fence and looked at Leon accusingly. The new blond just about jumped out of his skin.

Chris, meanwhile, was too bemused realizing his surname probably wasn't "Redfield" anymore to be startled. 

"Wesker," he said, gesturing to the shorter blond, "this is Leon. He's with Claire." To Leon, he added almost shyly, "Leon, this's my husband, Albert Wesker. I call him Wesker — force of habit." 

Wesker gave him a quick frown but then looked at Leon. 

“Hm.” In one smooth motion, Wesker hopped back over the fence – which made Leon take a step backwards. Nicely, Chris's husband offered him a hand. “It's nice to meet you.”

Inching closer again, Leon shook his hand. 

“Uh, you too.” 

Dropping the handshake, Wesker turned back to Chris. 

“I couldn't find it. It must be in the house.”

Leon peeked curiously around him at the beefy brunette. 

“Find what?”

“Nothing,” Wesker said sharply. 

"Don't worry about it," Chris told Leon sheepishly, patting Wesker's back. "I'll help you look later — right now company's over."

“Is Joseph still here too?” Wesker wondered vaguely as he headed back across the lawn. “Should I make lunch?” Leon followed them closely.

Lunch. Back in the real world, everyone was worried about starving to death – or being eaten. In this strange world, everything was so normal and seemingly unimportant.

Claire and Joseph were waiting on the front steps, chatting and smiling. If Chris didn't know any better, he'd think that THEY were dating, not Claire and Leon. It had been so long since he'd seen his sister in a normal social situation, he'd forgotten that she had that effect on most men. Chris glanced around them at the yard and the house and the peaceful little suburban street, suddenly feeling very disoriented all over again.

It was like being on another planet or something. Society the way it had been before all of this B.O.W. stuff was like a different lifetime, and that hit him so abruptly that he wasn't sure what to do about it. Pretending he didn't know Leon and he did know Joseph was pretty distracting all on its own. If he didn't lie to them, though, they would think he was just losing it...

...Something real life and the little dreamscape had in common.

He felt a hand on his back, and Wesker leaned over to kiss his cheek. 

“I'll go throw something together. See if you can wrangle everyone inside.” With that, the blond headed up past the two on the steps and disappeared inside. Leon watched him go.

“Wow.”

Chris glanced at him and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to ignore the fact his cheek felt warm like the kiss had left a mark. Blushing, really? He didn't do that. 

"Yep. That's my husband."

“I'm not even into guys but...score.” Leon smirked over at him, following after Wesker.


	9. Sinking

“Hey.” Leon paused next to Claire and offered her a hand up from the steps. “They're making us lunch.” She took it happily.

Joseph got up too and went to Chris. He didn't say anything, but crossed his arms over his chest and watched his friend's sister go inside. 

The brunette followed his gaze until the others were inside, then turned back to Joseph. 

"Sorry about that — I didn't know she was bringing a date over," he said sheepishly.

“Hey, no problem. I think I'll split anyways.” The tanned man grinned, patting Chris's back. “Your husband's being weird, you're being weird – hell, I feel weird. There's a stomach bug going around work – might be the cause.”

Chris gave him a sympathetic wince. 

"Oh, great, don't give that to the kids! Thanks for dropping by, Joseph. They love to see you." He smiled. Piers in particular seemed pretty attached to their "uncle."

“Just call me BEFORE the mental breakdown, okay?” Joseph beamed. He turned and headed off toward a parked black car which Chris assumed was his. “See you around, man.”

Piers looked up from the pool of mud he was waist deep in and waved happily. 

“Bye uncle Joe!”

“Bye kiddo!” Joseph waved back as he ducked into his car.

Chris waved at Joseph as he got into the car, then turned and headed for the house. He glanced at the kids playing in the mud on his way past, considered saying something, and thought better of it. They were just being kids — getting muddy was far from the worst thing they could have been doing.

He stepped back into the house, carefully wiping any mud off of his shoes onto the welcome mat, and ventured into the kitchen.

“Hey!” Leon caught his arm as he passed. “I just found this.” He held up a tiny thumb drive. It looked exactly like the one he had found plugged into the computer when Wesker had escaped. Including a little blue light – though it was not lit at that moment. “It was just floating in the planter by the door.” Leon explained, gesturing to the planter by the front door.

"In the..." Chris blinked, reaching a hand out for the device. "It was floating in the water?" 

“Yeah.” The blond replied. “It's all muddy too.”

The flash drive had several smears of mud on the top – in the suspicious shape of small fingers. Piers. He had dropped something into the planter when Chris first arrived in the dream world.

Chris turned the flash drive over in his hand and smiled. 

"Thank you, Leon. I've been looking for this."

It looked so much like the flash drive Wesker had left him in the base in real life that he halfway expected that it would have footage of Wesker on it. Why was his mind making him dream about this of all things, anyway? 

Jake came slogging in through the front door, tracking mud in a trail after him. 

"Piers is stuck up a tree," he declared, sounding annoyed about it.

Leon glanced down at the boy. 

“A tree? Um.” He looked at Chris with an expression of concern. 

Worriedly, the brunette tucked the flash drive into his pocket and turned to head back outside. 

"Which tree, Jake? How'd he even get up a tree?" 

The little redhead waved for him to follow and hurried outside again.

Seeing that Claire was in the kitchen chatting with Wesker, Leon went after Chris.

He found the muscular man standing in the yard in front of one of the trees, his redheaded kid standing beside him and pointing up into the branches. Chris was holding up both hands and talking.

"Don't move, Piers. Just stay put, Dad's gonna get you down."

The little boy in the tree was still ridiculously coated in mud. He looked down at his dad and brother calmly. 

“I can climb down.” Just what Chris didn't want him to do. The tiny brunette turned around and slung his legs over the edge, clutching the tiny helicopter under one arm and gripping the bark with his other hand.

Leon stayed a yard or two back, cringing. 

"No — Piers, you'll slip!" Chris hurried beneath the tree, reaching up to try and get hold of the boy. Piers' feet were a few inches out of his reach. 

"Hey, I bet if ya jump Dad would catch you," Jake called up helpfully.

The tiny Apache helicopter hit Chris smack in the middle of the forehead. It was surprisingly heavy.

Wincing, the brunette had to look away from Piers a split-second to let the toy roll off of his forehead. 

When he looked back, the branches were empty. There was a thump off to his left. 

Then his head throbbed in pain. His chest felt like it had been punched – and he felt himself fighting to breathe. The world vanished slowly this time, faded visions of a child laying on the grass.

He felt the cold blade of a knife press against his throat. 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” a gruff voice snarled in his ear. “Hate for you to drown.”

Chris opened his eyes, doing his best not to move too much as he sucked in a breath of air. 

"Piers," he mumbled, disoriented. Right, that was just a dream...

“Get up,” the large dark haired man growled, dragging Chris off of his bunk. While he was only armed with a large knife, the man standing a few feet away had a shotgun. Both of the men were muscular and tall – giving off the illusion of hired thugs more than anything else. Well. That would make things harder.

“Move.” The other one said quietly, ducking out of the door. He turned back to aim the gun at Chris. The man behind him pushed the knife against Chris’s back and shoved him toward the door.

The sound of trickling water echoed softly in the hall.

Not given much choice, Chris followed wherever they were leading him. 

"What're you worried I'll drown for?" He asked, keeping his voice low and his eyes facing forward. Who were these people? Might have something to do with Leon's missing guys from before.

“Look, you're just insurance – so shut the fuck up!” The man behind him snarled. Chris could have sworn that the knife's blade actually made it through his shirt – but now wasn't the time to check.

“Quiet Harry.” The man in front of them hissed. 

Within seconds, they were splashing through knee-height water. They were flooding the base. Since Chris's room was pretty far down in the layers, at least a third of the base had to be already flooded. Who knew who had been in the lower decks at the time...

"Sorry," Chris replied quietly, doing his best not to glance back. "...If you're trying to leave, though...we're going the wrong way," he added to the one in the lead. Harry didn't retaliate when told to shut up, so maybe this guy outranked him. 

Why flood the base while they were still in it? Was it an accident?

“There's a short cut,” the man – Otto maybe? – said over his shoulder. Chris vaguely recalled Leon saying their names earlier — Otto and Harry. “We'll let you go safe and sound once we're outside.”

“With all your stuff,” Harry whispered heavily in Chris's ear. 

“Harry, shut up. He'll figure it out.”

Chris actually shivered a little at the whispering right against his ear. Or it might have been the icy water that was now past knee-deep. He told himself it was the latter.

"He's right, Harry," he said grimly. "Get moving or we'll drown." Hopefully the others had gotten out already. He was doing his best not to think about the alternative right now.

The lights suddenly flickered and sputtered out. Both men flipped on their flashlights instantly – almost like it was automatic. The water must have reached the generator room. 

Harry's fingers dug into Chris's arm as he pulled him back against the knife again. 

“No shit, genius.”

“Shh!” Otto growled again, stepping into a deeper part of the water. The light from the flashlight caught the ripples across the surface as he moved, making Chris squint. He slung his shotgun over his back and grabbed hold of a large pipe on the wall. “Just keep watch.” He twisted the pipe and it started to leak profusely. “Alright, let's get the hell outta here.” The man smirked, pulling his gun back into his hands.

Harry shoved Chris into the water behind Otto and looked around. 

“I hate this fucking place. Those echoes are creepy. Could be zombies.”

Chris gritted his teeth and tried not to let them hear him wince. The throbbing headache wasn't as bad as before, but his chest still hurt, and getting shoved around wasn't helping. 

"Why do this?"

The water was rising quickly now. It was getting harder to walk.

“Well, I'll te-”

“It's pretty damn simple, 'captain,'” Otto growled. “You guys are like one big supply-sucking charity, just waiting for the zombies to bust in. With just the two of us and all those supplies, we'll make it for months.” The man turned to grin back at him. “And we can't have anybody following us.”

In a split second, he vanished from Chris’s view. A large splash of water hit Chris and Harry across the face – no, it was hot. Blood.

There was a gargling scream in the dark, and then the sound of water as it settled.

Harry pulled Chris against him, the knife digging into the captain's back. 

“Otto?! Otto!” The large man yelled into the dark, pointing his flashlight around at the glistening water.

"He's gone," Chris growled at him, holding perfectly still and glaring ahead. "We've got his blood all over us." If whatever did this was a B.O.W., it was far too fast to survive even one more pass. After all of these years, this seemed like a pathetic way to go out, but there he was.

“Fuck this!” Harry half shrieked, shoving Chris and sloshing off ahead into the tunnel. It was pitch black other than the light in the shaking man's hand. He glanced back at Chris once before crawling up onto a less flooded part of the hallway and running.

Stumbling against the wall in the dark, Chris leaned on it and closed his eyes tightly. Sight wouldn't help here — better not to try to see, and to listen instead. The hallway was full of echoes, and the loud sloshing of the water from Harry's departure seemed deafening in there. Between that and his own shaky breathing, it sounded like he was inside a metal box. 

Maybe holding still would make whatever got Otto ignore him and chase after Harry instead. That wouldn't exactly help with the base flooding, though...so he started after Harry, moving along the wall.

The retreating light took a turn – or was it thrown? The large man's dying breath echoed down the hall, and ended abruptly. 

It had chased him. 

The light lay far ahead of Chris in the hall. It lit up a tiny piece of the tunnel, just enough to see a black blur pass through it...heading in Chris's direction.

The brunette immediately stopped and pressed his back up against the wall, feeling to see if his knife or pistol were still in their holsters. Of course they weren't. The cold water was around his waist now, and he was shivering pretty badly.

This was it, then. He closed his eyes and waited.

There was a large splash as whatever it was landed in the water not even three feet from him. The water rippled up to send a chill up Chris's spine. Something grabbed around his arms.

He jumped slightly, his whole body going tense, and darkness be damned — he opened his eyes to see what would be the thing that ended his life. If he had to die, then he might as well face it head-on.

Two piercing red eyes met his gaze. 

“Chris!” Wesker said sharply. “You're bleeding.” Icy hands slid up the brunette's back, finding the slice that the knife had left.

"W...Wesker," Chris managed, staring. The blond man felt no warmer than the water, but Chris shifted from leaning on the wall to leaning against him. "W-we need to get out of here. The base's f-flooding."

“I know – but I had to find you first.” He scooped Chris up with little effort and sloshed back down the hall the way the men had led them. “The others are meeting at the gate,” he explained. The water was high enough to reach Wesker's chest now.

Others...thank god. 

"Everybody's okay?" He’d just mentioned the others, but Chris asked the question anyway, just for confirmation. Had Wesker helped get them out? Had they actually listened to him well enough to do that...?

“I had to ruffle some feathers, but yes,” the blond replied coolly. It was so bizarre to hear him say that. Slogging and slinging water everywhere, Wesker finally made it back to a drier part of the tunnel system. Water was running down the slanted hallway and Chris could see a few people far ahead of them racing toward the gates.

"..." Chris wrapped an arm around the blond man's neck, his fingers feeling clumsy and numb from the cold water they'd been in up until now. "Thank you," he said sincerely. Wesker had no particular reason to help the others, except maybe for Chris's sake. 

Wesker looked at him, surprised. It was then that Chris noticed that he wasn't wearing his sunglasses. His hair was wet and hung loose from its usual slicked back style. Those orange red eyes stared straight back at him. The color was chilling – especially with only the dim emergency lights overhead. He didn't say anything in response, but simply stared at the man in his arms.

“Don't open the gate!” He heard Leon yell from further up the tunnel. He briefly saw the blond man charging up the slant before he disappeared out of sight.

Chris glanced at Leon as he passed, frowning. Then he looked back up at Wesker, feeling dazed. What was wrong with him? The base was flooding. The only home he had managed to scrape together for everyone would soon be gone, and all he could think about in this moment was the fact that Wesker had never looked at him this way before. Had he?

With the shades on all the time, it was hard to tell. He just looked odd with his hair hanging down, too. Chris reached up and smoothed some of the blond's hair back, ignoring how that left a smear of blood on his cheek. 

"W-we've gotta move," he said quietly.

“Yes,” Wesker replied, just as softly. Shaking off the haze he had been in too, he sped up the hallway.

There was a screaming crowd of people clawing and lunging out of the gates. With all the noise...a growing number of figures were shambling closer. Leon was standing on the platform, pistol in hand – pop-shotting the zombies that were closest.

But there were too many. Screams echoed through the chaos of gun shots and crunching bones.

Wesker held him tighter and shoved his way through the crowd to the platform where Leon was.

Chris glanced around them as they moved. The survivors were in a panic — charging outside would just get them killed, but they had rising water at their backs, and it was instinct to flee. 

"Leon! Fall back," he called, waving at the blond. There were too many zombies to shoot. They needed another plan.

Leon pressed back against the wall, panicked people shoving past him. 

“Chris! Are you okay? Where the hell were you?”

Wesker sat Chris on his feet, pinning him back against the wall safely. The blond didn't seem eager to help the fleeing masses.

“Captain!” Piers shouted. He was just below the platform, dodging feet as everyone bailed out. “We need to get them back inside – what about Wesker's lab?”

“Isn't that hours from here?” Leon yelled back.

"The base's flooding!" Chris called to them, coughing a little and putting a hand to his chest. "Right now priority's getting OUT, and getting SAFE — we'll decide where to go afterward!" 

Great, now that he wasn't numb from the water his back was stinging. Stupid knife-wielding thugs. 

As the last of the people went charging off into the approaching zombies, Piers shook his head sadly. 

“No one's going to make it wherever we're going! We need to get them into some kind of defensible position-”

“There's a mall. Follow the street right,” Wesker cut in suddenly.

Without waiting for confirmation, Piers took off in a sprint to chase down some of the survivors. He waved as many as he could down the street – pausing once to kick a zombie off of a fallen man. 

“Move, move move!” What was left of almost a hundred people wove through the ruins and creatures to the road.

Wesker hauled Chris back into his arms, leaping off the platform as water began gargling out of the base. He yanked the jeep's door open and sat Chris inside carefully. Leon followed quickly, glancing around to see where Jake and Sherry were. 

Sherry wasn't hard to find. She was perched on top of the jeep, shooting the legs out from under the zombies that were chasing the survivors down. 

Jake wasn't immediately visible. Instead, the others saw where he'd last been each time a wave of zombies would topple over, or one would abruptly be thrown into the others. 

The redhead left the Jeep and dashed off to help Piers, though, when he heard the brunette shouting at the civilians over there. 

"Did you just say we're going to the MALL?"

“Got a better idea?” The small man snapped to Jake, shoving a large zombie that was getting too close to him.

"Claire — where's Claire?" Chris asked, looking around them in alarm. He hadn't seen his sister in any of this chaos yet — and it wasn't like her not to be beside Leon in a fight.

“Claire!” Leon yelled over the crowd as they retreated down the street.

To his relief, she split off from the crowd and waved an arm. 

“I'm here! I'm okay!” Claire turned back to a small crowd of people gathered around her and shooed them toward the mall.

Leon hopped in the back seat of the jeep. 

“She's okay – let's go.” He stuck his head out of the window. “Sherry, get in here!”

A second later, the petite blond woman swung her legs in the window and settled beside her long-time guardian. 

“Phew!”

Wesker started the jeep, immediately cranking the wheel to go to where Piers and Jake were.

Chris looked back at the water streaming out of the entrance to the base, hearing the whine of straining metal even over the Jeep engine. The base couldn't support its own weight when it was full of water — it was actually starting to sink. 

Meanwhile, Jake snagged the zombie Piers was struggling with by the back of its shirt and sent it rolling off to one side, more annoyed than threatened by it. 

"A mall's a terrible place to go with zombies after ya! Big glass windows everywhere," he told Piers, stepping over beside him. He promptly had to turn back around and kick a zombie away again, though.

“But it has more than one floor. We can barricade ourselves upstairs or something – I don't know!” The smaller man growled, noticing the jeep approaching. He grabbed Jake's hand to get his attention.

The redhead stared at him weirdly for a second, before noticing the engine and looking over as well. 

"Oh, good, they caught up."

The jeep skidded to a stop just long enough for them to hop in. Sherry greeted Jake with a big hug, now sitting on Leon's lap to make room for them. 

“You made it!”

Piers hesitated briefly, but wedged himself between the door and Jake sheepishly. 

“Drive!”

A wave of grit shot up behind the jeep's tires as they started after the survivors.

Jake hugged Sherry tightly with one arm — and then promptly wrapped the other around Piers as they swerved away in the Jeep. The small soldier wasn't quite sitting on the seat beside him — he'd had to just lean on Jake's side in order to slam the door closed. 

"Anybody wanna explain what the hell happened back there?" The redhead asked the rest of the Jeep's inhabitants. 

“The base flooded,” Leon said slowly. He seemed a little confused on the how.

Piers braced his hand on Jake's chest to keep himself from toppling right on top of the redhead. Outside of the car, Chris spotted his sister blasting away at the random zombies between them and the mall. The survivors had all crowded together and seemed to actually be attempting to fend off the zombies. The mall was only a block away now.

“Somebody flooded it on purpose,” Chris replied shortly to the others, still looking ahead to Claire. “I'll explain when we're safe.”  


* * *

  
Leon muttered under his breath and looked out the window at the crowd. The mall had just come into view. It was the edge of a massive building with multiple stories. It was mostly locked down, though. There were cages over all of the windows and doors. 

Claire led her group up to it and began examining the door.

The jeep slowed to a stop behind them, providing a little protection from any wandering corpses. 

Jake patted Piers' shoulder. 

"Hey, let's go help them get the door open." He glanced at Sherry, then back to the door. 

"Were there only two of those guys?" Chris asked Wesker quietly. "You don't think there's any left to follow us, do you?"

Wesker looked over at him, red eyes calm. 

“They won't make it here. I'll make sure of that.”

Leon leaned forward over the backseat. 

“Um, who?”

“Get out,” the driver said bluntly.

“Jeez, okay.” Leon hopped out of the door and shook his head, leaving Sherry inside. Piers did the same and climbed off of Jake's lap down to the ground.

There was a loud gunshot as Claire blasted the lock. She beamed over at the rest of the group. 

“It's open.”

Jake stepped over and raised an eyebrow at the remains of the lock. 

"Okay, then. Let's make sure nothing nasty's in there before everybody goes inside."

Without waiting for a reply, he popped the door open and headed in.

Piers ducked in after him, giving Claire a wave. 

“We'll be back soon.”

She replied with a thumbs up and started wrangling people up against the building. At least they could keep a better eye out around them that way.

Jake was already halfway across the giant section of mall floor that could be seen from the doorway. The place was surprisingly clean, barred doors pulled down over the individual shops like it had closed one night and had never been reopened. That was encouraging — that meant most people would have been locked out, right?

"Looks like the coast is clear, pretty much...wow," Jake commented, turning to stare at Piers. In the dim lighting, the small soldier’s eyes were silvery glowing points.

Piers stared up at him. 

“Yeah. It's so clean.” He looked around the area, taking in the locked doors. He seemed to be able to see just fine despite the dim lighting. “There might actually be supplies in here.”

Stepping back over next to Piers, the redhead frowned slightly. 

"Yeah, well. Let's do a sweep of the place anyway, just to be safe."

“Yes s-” Piers shook his head, stopping himself. “Okay.” He headed over to one of the caged doors and peeked inside, walking around the outside. “We should look for a good place to set up. Everyone would be a lot easier to manage if they felt a little more safe.” He looked back at Jake, pale gray eyes glinting. It really did look like a cat. “You know?”

Jake stopped and examined his eyes for a moment again before catching himself. 

"Yeah, you're right," he said quickly, glancing away around the place to distract himself. Usually glowy eyes were a BAD thing — he'd never found them attractive before. It was weird. 

Blinking, he pointed up at the second story of the building. "How about we set up camp on that overpass? Clear view of the floor down here."

Piers returned to his side to look where he was pointing. 

“That could work...but maybe we should find a store in the back? Something with only a few doors?” He looked up at Jake hopefully.

"Ground floor's good for most of us," Jake agreed, glancing back the way they'd come. "Still gonna put a lookout up there, though. If we can bar the doors, there won't be anything but us in here anyway."

“No, I like your idea.” Piers nodded, placing a light hand on Jake's shoulder. “But I think we should keep everyone upstairs. Then we can keep an eye on the door and the stairs. Just to be sure.”

"Sounds like a plan. You take the left side, I'll take the right," Jake said, gesturing down the sides of the mall. He dashed off before Piers could say anything in reply. The guy was hard not to pay attention to — which was just terrible, really, because any attention aimed at him was attention NOT aimed at Sherry.

Piers headed off on his way, looking a little worried. He seemed to have made a full recovery from the treatment Wesker gave him, at least.

The mall was surprisingly empty all the way through, with the exception of a large chunk was missing from one wall. The nose of a car stuck through it.

Jake stopped about ten feet from it and waved for Piers to come over. "Hey, over here! Got a hole to the outside." He tilted his head and examined the car sideways.

A minute later, Piers was back at his side and looking at the car. 

“I don't think anything can fit through.” He pushed on the car's bumper. “It seems stuck.” He leaned down over it and peered out through the gap. “But I can see daylight.” 

"As long as nothin' got through already, I'd say we're pretty secure in here," Jake concluded, frowning at the sliver of light in the wall. "All clear on your side?"

“Ah.” Piers looked back the way he came from and rubbed his neck. “No zombies.”

Jake glanced at him, wondering how the hell he managed to make every little gesture look so endearing. Before he could get distracted, the redhead started back toward the entrance.

"Then I'm gonna give them the word to come inside. I'll help get some of these shops open in a minute."

“Jake.” Piers grabbed his hand to stop him. “Jake, wait.”

The redhead stopped dead in his tracks, but took a moment to look back over his shoulder. 

"What?" He tried to sound irritated about having his hand held, but it was tough with Piers' big glinting gray eyes trained on his face. 

“I know...” The smaller man fidgeted, letting go of Jake's hand. “I know this'll sound really stupid to you.” He swallowed nervously – eyes wavering as he searched for the right words.

Blinking, Jake turned around to face him again. 

"Okaaay..." 

“I found someone. He's dead. I just...” Piers shook his head and sighed. “Can we please move him? I don't want anyone to find him.”

Jake stared at him for a minute. Wow, was that all? Then again, why the hell had he assumed Piers was about to tell him anything not mission-related? 

"Uh. Sure, we can do that," he agreed, bemused by his own reaction. Jeez, here he'd been telling himself NOT to focus too much on Piers like ten minutes ago...

“He made it this far without being looted or eaten,” the small brunette mumbled, circling around Jake. He led them to a small magazine stand in the middle of the mall floor. Leaned against the inside was a dead man – a soldier. He was in a full military uniform and helmet, a pistol in one hand and its empty clip in the other. Piers knelt beside him.

Jake stepped around the edge of the stand to get a better look at the body, frowning. 

"Then what killed him?" It was a reasonable question. He looked too well-armed to die from some attack.

“From what I can tell, he broke his leg and bled out,” Piers reported sadly, placing a hand on the dead man's shoulder. “Must have crawled here.” He looked around all of a sudden. “The question is, where from?” He looked back at the soldier and scanned over his skeletal face with hazy gray eyes. At last he took a sharp breath and stood up. “We should hurry. Everyone's waiting.”

Jake shrugged and stepped closer to help lift the body. 

"Where exactly are we goin' with him? There's only one door that's open."

“I don't know.” Piers bent and grabbed the man's legs. “A storage closet or something.” From the tone of his voice, he hadn't thought that far ahead.

Taking hold of the man's shoulders, Jake lifted him up and glanced around them quickly. 

"How about in one of the shops nobody'll go in? A music store or something," he suggested.

“That'll work.” Piers nodded, looking up at Jake as they walked. “Thank you for doing this. I know it's not your thing.”

"I don't think Sherry would wanna leave him there, either," the redhead replied as casually as he could. Really, this seemed important to Piers, maybe since the guy had been a fellow soldier. It was a pretty small thing to ask. 

“I like her,” Piers said, navigating around a corner to pause in front of the mall map. He found the nearest music store and carefully started that way. “She seems really nice.”

"And tough, too," Jake said fondly. "Don't know what I'd do without her, really." He looked up at the music store sign absently.

Piers paused and sat the dead soldier down gently. 

“She said the same thing about you.” He smiled up at Jake and went to test the music store's cage gate.

The redhead stayed behind with the body and watched him, rubbing the back of his neck. Well, Sherry was talking to Piers in private just like he was. For some reason that felt awkward. Why? More than one person could be friends with Piers, right? 

...If 'friends' was the right word. Jake muttered something under his breath — a self-reminder that Sherry was currently out there with the zombies, so they couldn't get distracted — and frowned.

Piers gave the door handle a good tug, then watched the snapped-off lock skid away past Jake's boot. 

“Sorry.” He raised the cage and came back over to lift up the soldier. “Let's sit him behind the counter in the back.”

Glancing after the lock with a raised eyebrow, Jake lifted the dead man up again. 

"Lead the way. Guess you've got some super powers, too, huh?"

“What? No.” Piers laughed a little. It sounded forced. He was staring straight into the soldier's face grimly and shaking his head. “Wesker thinks so, but I feel pretty normal.”

"Hey," Jake leaned his head to the side, trying to get into the brunette's line of sight. Staring at the dead guy couldn't exactly be uplifting. "I'm not sayin' there's anything wrong with super powers, you know."

“Yeah,” Piers said quietly, finally sitting the man's legs down behind the counter. “Just...” He gestured around the desk. “Just sit him back there. At least this way, nobody will see him.”

Carefully leaning the dead man back against the wall there, Jake frowned and dashed out the door. A few seconds later he was back, carrying a red piece of cloth — a tablecloth from the jewelry shop next door that he'd noticed on the first walk-through of the place. He draped it carefully over the body to cover it up. 

"...There we go, pal, rest in peace and all that," he told the soldier, stepping back and crossing his arms to survey their handiwork.

He heard a soft whimper and caught Piers covering his mouth briefly out of the corner of his eye. Was he crying? 

“Rest in peace soldier.” Piers nodded quickly. Without waiting a second longer, the small man made a beeline out the door.

Jake stared after him, then looked back to the soldier again. No, he was dead positive Piers hadn't actually known the guy. Bemused, the redhead pulled the bars to the music store down. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he headed back out to meet with the others.


	10. Not Alone

Just after everyone had been moved inside and settled in – in a upstairs restaurant – Chris was pushed into a chair by Wesker to be patched up. It gave him a moment to survey the remaining survivors. They had lost probably one third of the crowd of civilians. Most of those remaining had calmed down now, but a few were still clutching makeshift weapons. 

Piers had avoided Chris entirely since he returned from his scouting with Jake. It was more than a little suspicious.

He heard Wesker sigh under his breath as he swabbed at the slice up the large brunette's back. 

"The mall was a good idea," he told the blond over his shoulder, glancing back at him. He felt like he should say something. Without Wesker there, most of them would probably be dead right now. Maybe all of them.

The cold hands on his back paused momentarily. 

“I stayed here briefly. It seemed secure.” Sitting the bloodied cloth down, Wesker picked up some gauze.

Chris shifted on the chair, turning toward him more. 

"Wesker."

The blond man looked down at him, red eyes still exposed.

Chris looked at him quietly for a moment, studying the reddish eyes and the slightly-disheveled hair. Wesker with the shades on was like looking at a wall, but with his eyes uncovered he was somewhat mesmerizing.

"You didn't have to save anybody in that base," he told the blond finally. "I-I didn't expect you to." Not that he was complaining.

Wesker blinked and looked away. He actually seemed uncomfortable without his shades to hide behind. He opened his mouth like he was going to talk, but stopped. 

“I...I didn't. They saved themselves,” he said at last, stepping to safety behind Chris.

The brunette turned and folded his arms on the back of the chair, leaning his cheek against them. Wesker still had to bandage his back. 

"Yes you did," he said quietly. "Like you said, feathers got ruffled. Then you came after me."

“Your group is more difficult than I predicted,” Wesker admitted, hand smoothing the bandage around Chris's torso. He tied it off and patted Chris's back. “Leon in particular surprised me. He's very stubborn – I had to use force.”

"He's fought whole armies alone," Chris informed him, glancing back again. He hoped Leon hadn't actually gotten injured out of that confrontation. "We're still alive for a reason, and not just because I'm here." 

A kiss was sneaked onto the top of his head, and Wesker turned to put away the medical supplies. The mall had a few basics floating around – luckily, one of them had been a first aid kit.

Chris closed his eyes. The dreams had actually made him so used to little smiles or kisses from Wesker that he wasn't shocked to see them in real life anymore. God, he really was losing it.

"You didn't do all of this just for me, did you?" He asked, looking down at some people on the ground floor of the mall. 

“My reasons are my own. You're alive – your people are alive. Let's not dwell on it,” the tall man said stiffly. He came back over to stand behind Chris. “You didn't tell me I had a grandchild on the way.”

Chris turned his head and frowned. 

"Who did?" 

“Her blood did.” Wesker leaned in next to Chris's ear. “Who knows about this?”

"Why does that matter?" The brunette glanced up at him sidelong. Why didn't the whispering into his ear bother him even a little? His first impulse was to turn and face Wesker nose-to-nose, but thanks to the dreams he'd be tempted to try for a kiss. And dreams were one thing — reality was another. Reality was cold, and he was trying hard to keep that in mind.

Close up, Wesker's eyes revealed more emotion than Chris thought he was capable of. There was something there...below the surface. Fear. The blond seemed to be lost in his mind now too, leaning in close and staring into Chris's eyes thoughtfully. 

“Your base sinking was a good example of what fear can cause fools to do.” He hesitated and sat back a bit. “But do what you like.”

"Actually, I think they were just afraid of you," Chris said, blinking as he sat back. He brought a hand to his forehead, feeling dazed. Was there really some feeling in Wesker's eyes, or was he just projecting it there? "...You wouldn't hurt her." He meant Sherry, although the baby could turn out to be a girl. He had no idea whether Wesker thought of the baby as a good or bad thing.

“Chris.” Wesker slid his hands on to the back of Chris's neck. He hovered there, thumbs gently tracing the muscular man's jawline. “He may have died a monster, but Birkin was the only man I ever called friend,” the tall man said almost warmly. “I would never hurt his daughter.”

"Bill," Chris said absently, remembering the dream. Wesker's hands were cold, but that actually felt kind of nice against his neck. He put a hand over one of the blond's, sighing slowly. If he could just blend reality and the dreams together, he was sure there was a middle point he could live with.

“Yes...I was the only one who called him that.” He could hear the smirk in Wesker's voice. “He hated it.”

Chris was quiet for a long moment, thinking back on all of the people he'd known over the years who were dead now. There were so many. 

"That was a long time ago," he said, halfway just telling himself so. "It's all gone now. This's all we have."

“You're enough.” Wesker whispered. His hands slipped out of Chris's. He paced away, laying the first aid kit on top of a stack of gathered stuff. Mostly blankets and pillows at the moment – but there were survivors out searching the mall for food. Wesker returned to his side and spread a blanket over the ex-captain's shoulders. “You should rest.”

Surprised at the gesture, Chris pulled the blanket around himself and slowly shifted in the chair so that he could lean against the back. He looked at Wesker tiredly. 

"Last time I did that I woke up with a knife to my throat."

The blond moved leaned down and placed a kiss on Chris's lips. It felt exactly like in his dreams with the other Wesker. He broke away and looked evenly into the brunette's eyes. 

“I'm not leaving your side.”

Chris blinked up at him, again a bit mesmerized by the reddish eyes — and surprising himself that the kiss felt so normal. He’d been kissing Wesker in the dreamscape, but for the real Wesker, a kiss was quite a gesture. It felt like he should show some kind of reaction, but he was too exhausted to muster one. In the end, he only nodded a little and did his best to relax back into the chair, closing his eyes. 

Sleep. He'd barely gotten through the word before he was drifting off.  


* * *

  
“Eh. Keep looking,” Leon mumbled as he passed. Jake's discovery apparently wasn't worth breaking stride for. Piers trailed after the blond silently. He had been sticking to Leon like glue and avoiding everyone else – including Jake. With everyone out searching for supplies, it was amazing that they had even crossed paths.

Jake had a bad feeling it had to do with that dead soldier. Piers had acted fine before they'd found him. He waved at Leon dismissively as the blond led Piers past what HE considered buried treasure: a bulk candy shop. 

The round bubble-like glass containers displayed dozens of brightly-colored forms of sugar, chocolate, or some combination thereof. He was pretty sure Sherry would literally squeak in delight when she saw just the bag of chocolate he'd picked out. For the moment, he wanted to keep the place under wraps, though — or the civilians would probably take all the good stuff.

Piers glanced his way and stopped abruptly. Slowly, he came over and leaned on the door frame. 

“Wow. Are...” He looked at Jake for the first time after the dead man and swallowed nervously. “Are those chocolate covered blueberries?”

The redhead paused in tying off the small plastic bag of chocolate he was taking with him, glancing over at Piers. Then he looked over the rows of candy machines and smirked. 

"I think there's pretty much anything you want covered in chocolate in here."

The small soldier ran a hand along the tops of the candy containers. 

“I never thought in a million years I'd miss candy. I never even liked it,” Piers said in disbelief. He opened the top of a bin and picked out a chocolate.

Jake glanced at him again, amused. He looked so amazed at his own reaction to the candy, it was almost child-like. 

"I could never afford candy as a kid," he mused, poking at a display full of bright pink, purple and white gumballs. "One time I got lucky and somebody gave me some...so I brought it home to cheer up my mom." 

Piers smiled warmly at him from across the candy jars. 

“Did it work?” He circled around the row of containers to Jake's side, still holding the tiny chocolate covered blueberry. He placed the candy in his mouth, still watching Jake curiously.

The redhead shrugged, looking off into the candy shop rather than at Piers. Why had he started talking about his mother, anyway? There was no way that conversation didn't turn into a downer.

"Sort of. Turns out she couldn't stand peanut butter, and they were peanut butter cups, so she gave 'em to me," he explained, smiling despite himself. Her expression had been so funny. "But it made her really happy that I wanted to give them to her instead of just eating them myself. I guess it WAS a pretty big move for a little kid who never got candy."

Piers smiled back, but it was a sad smile. 

“You sound like you were a cute kid. I always assumed you were a brat,” he added playfully, heading back around to the chocolate covered blueberries.

"Oh, to everybody else I was," Jake assured him. "But my mom was sick in bed all the time, so I tried to be extra nice to her. Couldn't always afford her medicine, so I'd bring her flowers and stuff to try and keep her spirits up. Anyway..." He looked around quickly for something else to talk about. 

Candy, everywhere. He had no idea what to say about that, though, so he just poked at one of the glass displays for a moment. Great, now Piers wasn't the only one who was acting off. “...”

The smaller man looked at him from across the candy jars, eyes flitting between Jake and the door. He cleared his throat and came right back around next to Jake. 

“I bet she liked the flowers better than the peanut butter cups.” He gave the redhead a soft smile and fidgeted with the edge of his black tee briefly before looking back up at Jake. “...Did you see any clothing stores around here?”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck and sat up to face Piers, even though his first instinct was to examine the gummi bear bin label way too closely. 

"Uh..." He looked at the brunette still wearing his oversized shirt and blinked, trying to focus back on the present. "Yeah, actually I did. C'mon, I'll show ya."

He stepped toward the door quickly, waving Piers after him.

“Ah – you don't have to!” Piers said quickly, swooping around in front of Jake, hands held up to stop him. “Just point me in the right direction.” He nodded nervously. “I can find it.”

The redhead crossed his arms and looked at him with a small frown. 

"I was gonna look for some stuff for Sherry while I'm over there," he said, lowering his voice in case others nearby might overhear them. He glanced off to the side, out into the mall. "...At least a dress or somethin'. Maybe...baby clothes." He was practically mumbling by the time he got to the last sentence.

Resigned, Piers gestured Jake past him halfheartedly. 

“That's...I bet she'll love that.” The small brunette's eyes drifted to the floor, eyebrows growing a little sad. He really looked like someone had just kicked him...and he was a puppy.

Jake looked at him almost guiltily. Clearly Piers didn't want to be around him for some reason, and he wasn't sure why. He'd only started acting bothered when they'd found the dead soldier. Since he wasn't very good at being sensitive about such things, the redhead decided it was best to just not talk about it, and started out the door again. 

"Well, c'mon."

The clothing store was a bit out of the way. When the large red 'PC Jenny' sign came into view, Piers sped up to match Jake's pace. 

“Do you know if the baby is a boy or a girl?”

"No idea," Jake replied, glancing down at him. "We haven't had a doctor look at her since we found out — we don't have one." Why was he still worrying about Piers? He should have been focusing on Sherry and the baby they had on the way.

The sniper looked totally different out of military uniform, though — smaller and a little softer, somehow. Jake was starting to think he just felt protective toward small-statured people, because this reminded him an awful lot of how he thought of Sherry. That was bad news.

“Wesker's a doctor,” the petite soldier mused. “Not really the good kind, but still.” Piers paused at the cage gate. 

"NO," Jake said flatly. "No way. If that blood sample he took didn't help you so much I wouldn't let him near her for that, either." He scowled and looked up at the PC Jenny sign. 

“Thank you for doing that, by the way,” Piers said genuinely. “You've been saving me a lot lately.” He blinked, a little surprised at his own words. “Um, you wanna...?” He waved a hand at the gate.

Jake quickly turned and pulled the gate open, ducking inside. He wasn't sure what to say to Piers in response. It wasn't that he was just a nice guy — he wouldn't do these things for just anybody. For some reason, Piers got more priority than anybody except Sherry. 

Even Leon, he realized thoughtfully. And Chris. And Claire. He didn't feel like he had to protect them. What the hell made Piers so special?

“Nice,” he heard Piers say. The smaller man was stripping off Jake's black tee and happily pulling on a long sleeved fleece henley. It was coal gray and just made him look like he was ready for fall. Piers smiled and ran a hand down the front, tucking it into the pocket. He pulled out the price tag and examined it. “$70? Thank god for the apocalypse.”

Jake stopped short and looked at him. 

"Yeah..." He was more agreeing with the 'nice' than the comments about price tags. Piers didn't seem to smile much, but when he did his whole face lit up. It was hard not to smile, too. 

He managed, but only by disguising it under a frown. 

"Looks warm. You're missing something, though." He looked around the shop, still frowning. They had to be here somewhere.

“Like what?” Piers asked as he disappeared around into a different aisle. There were the sounds of ripping plastic, the rustle of fabric and then the sound of a zipper. Apparently, Piers found a pair of pants that weren't medical scrubs.

"I dunno, you look cold." Jake moved through the aisles as he spoke. He was sure Piers could hear the rustling, too, as he poked and prodded at items on the shelves. "Here, I think I figured it out."

He headed back over to where he'd last seen Piers.

The shorter man came back into sight – now in a pair of green cargo pants. He offered Jake his borrowed t-shirt. 

“Thanks for the loan.”

The redhead blinked and accepted the shirt back. He'd halfway expected Piers to just leave it somewhere and assume he was getting a new one, too.

"You seemed to need it more than me," he pointed out, shrugging. Glancing down at the shirt, then back to Piers, he asked the brunette, "Are ya still cold?"

“A little but it's probably just exhaustion or something,” Piers mumbled, slipping his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders. “We should grab some blankets while we're here.”

Shoving the folded T-shirt into his jacket pocket, Jake pulled something else out of the other one — a kerchief-style scarf with a pattern of little blue and white and gray squares on it. 

"On it. Here." He pressed the scarf into Piers' hands and hurried off to pretend to dig for blankets before the brunette could protest. 

But Piers followed him. He stood and watched Jake rummaging for a minute. 

“T-thank you, Jake,” he managed at last. His voice sounded shaky. Unsure.

Something about that tone made Jake pause. Piers sounded shaken again, like he'd hit a nerve. Sitting up, he turned to the brunette and placed a hand on his shoulder. It seemed like he should say something comforting, but he was pretty bad at that kind of thing. Instead he just replied to the comment. 

"Sure. I remember you wearing one just like that."

Piers slowly placed a hand on Jake's comforting arm and stared at him. 

“Yeah. I really like it,” he said softly, gray eyes lost in thought. Swallowing hard, the brunette backed away suddenly. “Thanks. I'll...I'll go look for...supplies.” He shook his head, mumbling, and hurried off into a random aisle.

Jake stared after him, bemused. Supplies. In a clothes store. Right. He stepped into the ladies' side of the store and started scanning for anything that looked like Sherry's style. 

"Hey, Piers," he called, after a long heavy silence in the store.

Somewhere, an end rack tipped over.

“Y-yeah?”

Jake sat up and glanced back toward the sound, frowning. 

"How old were ya when you enlisted?"

Finally coming back within sight of Jake, the brunette looked tiredly at him. 

“Young. It's a family tradition. Why?”

The redhead shrugged a little, trying to be nonchalant about looking at Piers while actually checking his expression. Tired and a bit confused. Great. 

"That soldier," he admitted finally. "You didn't know the guy. We see dead people all the time, but not like him. He's sort of family, right?"

Piers bit his lip, eyebrows lowering. 

“Can we please not talk about this? Not now.” The brunette turned and headed back the way he had came.

Jake held up his hands. 

"Okay then." He frowned and turned back to the clothes racks, picking up the pieces he had selected for Sherry, then made a beeline for the baby clothes. Maybe he was getting too friendly and it was creeping Piers out. It was kind of freaking HIM out.

To his surprise, Piers was already there. He flipped through the tiny sleepers on the rack in front of him, chin tucked under his new scarf sadly. 

“Dinosaurs or fairies?”

Jake cautiously stepped over closer to him to take a look at the little baby clothes. Wow, they were tiny. Were babies really that tiny, or was this a special section for the extra small ones?

He poked at the little feet of the fairy sleeper Piers was looking at and sighed. 

"I bet Sherry would pick the dinosaurs. She likes science."

The gray eyed man looked up at him silently. He pulled a tan sleeper with dinos on it off the rack and offered it to Jake. 

“After seeing my team torn limb from limb, I just thought...” He shrugged a shoulder hopelessly. “I don't know what I thought,” Piers said lowly. “Somebody deserves a little peace. It might as well be him.”

Jake looked from the baby clothes to him. 

"That guy probably died all alone," he said quietly, frowning. "Maybe he lost his team first, too. Maybe even had to shoot 'em himself. Is that what you thought?"

Piers looked up at him and gave a small nod. 

“Yeah.” Poking at the baby clothes, he sighed and turned away from Jake. “I would've grabbed his dog tags – but his family's probably dead too,” he added morbidly. 

Jake grabbed his shoulder. 

"A whole lot of people are dead, Piers. We're all on our way there."

“Not us,” the small man whispered, keeping his face turned away from his companion. “We'll get to watch them all die.” 

Jake stepped around in front of him, his hand still resting on Piers' shoulder. 

"If we're there, that means they're not gonna die alone."

Piers shrunk away from him momentarily, then closed the space between them – hugging Jake tightly around the waist. He breathed in sharply and let go. 

“I'm s–sorry. Sorry,” he repeated, shaking his head. Piers put a hand over his face and sighed.

Jake blinked, caught off-guard by the embrace — especially since Piers changed his mind at the last second and let go again. He just looked so hurt, and for some reason that was unbearable to watch. Impulsively, Jake stepped closer and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, hugging him close. 

"Hey...easy, you're okay." What was he doing? He shouldn't be... But Piers didn't seem like he'd confide in anybody else like this, and he was clearly struggling with dealing with it all on his own. 

There was squeak of surprise when he hugged the shorter man – but then he felt Piers' arms wrap around him shyly. The small soldier rested his head against Jake's shoulder, relaxing slightly. He seemed stunned into silence by the returned hug.

Jake just stood there and held him tight, wondering what to say. Maybe saying nothing was safer. After a moment, he moved one gloved hand up to rest gently against Piers' hair.

Piers sat his head up from Jake's shoulder and looked up at him with tearful eyes. He looked lost. Dazed. He blinked slowly, looking over the taller man's face. 

“Thank you.” 

Jake's gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips and back again, unsure. He felt dazed, too. Like this whole thing was some surreal dream. This wasn't like him at all — not holding another guy, not touching his face and looking into his big gray eyes. 

"Sorry," he whispered. "Sorry you had to go through all that." 

Piers continued to stare at him for a second. 

“At least I wasn't alone,” he finally said. The smaller man smiled sadly. “Thanks. Really. Y-you're probably not even used to having people you care about. You know. Teammates.” He swallowed nervously, shifting in Jake's arms. People other than Sherry, he meant.

The shifting kind of snapped Jake out of the daze he'd been in, too. He loosened his hold on Piers, straightening up and glancing away toward one side of the clothing store and then the other. Abruptly, he turned and gathered up the clothes he'd picked out for Sherry, which had been dropped to the side when this whole 'hug Piers and try to say nice things' situation came up.

"Things've changed since last time you saw me," he said as evenly as he could. "I found somebody...so I couldn't keep bein' so damned selfish."

Just as nervously, Piers retreated back to the section they came through. He was in such a hurry that he knocked over several small stands. 

“I b-better go check in with Wesker,” he stammered, scooping up an armful of blankets from a camping rack. Pausing briefly at the door to glance at Jake, the gray eyed man ducked back out.

Jake let him go. In fact, he waited a few minutes to be sure Piers was gone before he shoved the clothes into a shopping bag and headed back to his and Sherry's little corner of the place.

They were a door down from the cafe where Chris and most of the main team were staying; hopefully Wesker hadn't bothered her while he was gone. His father seemed (disturbingly) distracted by Chris at the moment, so probably not. 

"Sherry...?" The redhead asked quietly, leaning in the door of their 'home' and glancing around for her. Maybe she'd gone to hang out with Claire.

Both women looked up at him in surprise. Sherry was perched behind Claire on the bed, both facing the same direction. There was a first aid kit spread out in front of the auburn haired woman. Claire was in her usual jean shorts — and missing her shirt. All she had on top was a lacy red bra. She smiled sheepishly at the new arrival.

Sherry hopped off the bed and hugged Jake around the neck tightly. 

“You made it!” She beamed up at him. It was such a warm, inviting smile. She seemed to be in a good mood despite all the chaos at their old base. “What's in the bag?”

Jake quickly averted his eyes to the side, wrapping his arms around Sherry. 

"Of course I made it — you weren't worryin' about me getting back even with us locked in here, were you?" He pulled back enough to look down at her face, arching a brow. "I went shopping."

“We did too,” The blond said sweetly. “We found some new shoes.” She gestured down to her feet. She was wearing a pair of cute brown hiking boots.

Jake leaned to the side a little to look at them and smiled. 

"Awesome." 

They actually did look cute on her, but they were definitely not what came to mind when he heard a woman say she got 'new shoes'. He was a little uneasy now about whether Sherry would appreciate him picking clothes with things like lace and pretty patterns.

Ending the hug at last, he offered the blond the shopping bag a bit awkwardly, sticking his free hand in his pocket. "Here, it's all stuff for you."

“Aww.” Claire cooed, coming over to Sherry's side...still without her shirt on. She had some scratches across her stomach and back that Sherry must have been in the middle of treating.

Sherry giggled, taking the bag. 

“Okay, now I feel spoiled.” Both of them plunked back on the bed and Sherry picked through the contents excitedly. “Wow!” She held up the small sleeper with dinosaurs and grinned. “They're perfect.”

Jake came over and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning on one hand and looking back at the clothes the two were sorting through. Sherry looked so excited about the little baby outfit that he had to smile. 

"Glad ya like 'em."

“That's not a bad idea. We should stock up on what we might need a few months down the road.“ Claire got up and slid her shirt up onto her shoulders with a grimace. “I think I'll check the parking lot for working cars. Walking on foot didn't exactly work.”

“Are you sure you're okay?” Sherry asked, looking up at her in concern.

“Oh yeah. I'll just have Leon patch me up.” She gave Jake a sly smile as she went out of the door. “Have fun.”

“Bye.” Sherry waved after her, returning her attention to the bag. She pull out each item and ooh'd and aww'd over it. Most of it was maternity wear with high waistlines and some lace, but she seemed to like it. She scooted over next to Jake and leaned on his shoulder. “Thank you.” With a smile, she pecked his cheek.

The redhead looked at her, feeling a bit guilty he'd been spending so much time away from her lately. Here he'd just gotten back from that trip with Leon, but once he was back he hadn't stuck close by her like he usually did. Because of Piers. 

He turned toward her more and slipped an arm around her waist, kissing her forehead in return. 

"It's nothin'. How's my super girl doing?" Inwardly, he couldn't help remembering his conversation with Piers. They needed to find a doctor.

“Um...” She paused for a long moment. “Good.” The blond nodded thoughtfully and hugged Jake tightly.

Jake frowned a little and pulled her closer, a twinge of worry already in his mind. Why just 'good'? Was something wrong? 

"It's weird not being in the base," he commented, resting his cheek against her blond hair. 

It was also weird not having Piers within their sight, after the last few days. He didn't mention that, though. How had he gotten so used to having Piers nearby so quickly?

“It doesn't feel safe here. Somehow, being in a underwater metal tube made me feel better,” Sherry mumbled, looking around. She cleared her throat. “Hey...”

Jake sat back a little and looked at her worriedly. 

"Yeah? What is it?" 

“Did you and Piers get in a fight?” The blue eyed girl stared up at him with a frown. “I saw him go by and he looked pretty upset.”

Jake glanced at the door, his brows furrowing. He was pretty sure feeling guilty about how he'd been thinking of Piers lately was not making his expression look good to Sherry. Probably looked guilty about a fight instead. 

"Not exactly," he admitted reluctantly. "But we did have a talk."

“About what?” She asked almost instantly. As far as Jake knew, Piers and Sherry had barely exchanged words since he arrived since he had been with Jake. But then again, they seemed to have warmed up to each other quickly while talking in the base.

Scooting away a little, the redhead slipped his jacket off and pulled the T-shirt out of the pocket where he'd stuffed it before. 

"About his old team. Said he saw 'em get torn to pieces," he said quietly, looking at the shirt. Piers had been wearing it since Jake first found him. 

“That's horrible,” Sherry mumbled, leaning back on the bed. “I know he really cared about them – just like Chris.”

Deciding against the shirt, Jake sighed and flopped over on his back beside her, looking up at the dim ceiling. Somebody had lit a little candle in a glass and put it on a table for them. 

"That's not all, though. When we first went in here, we found a dead guy. A soldier." He frowned.

Sherry laid down next to him, cuddling up to his side. 

“Oh god. Poor Piers.” Her eyebrows pinched sadly as she sat her head on Jake's shoulder. “Was it someone he knew?”

Jake put an arm around her waist and shook his head a little. 

"Nah, just some guy who...broke his leg, and crawled in here and died alone. Really got to Piers, though — when I put the sheet over the body, he almost cried."

There was a pause as Sherry thought it over. She seemed to be taking it hard, too. She finally sat up and looked down at Jake. 

“Would it be okay if I gave him a hug?”

"Huh? You don't have to ask my permission," the redhead replied immediately, feeling guilty. He'd hugged Piers a number of times since finding him at Wesker's place — and not all of them were because the sniper needed to lean on him to walk. "You should, I don't think there's anybody else around who will," he added, sitting up too. 

Kissing him sweetly, she smiled. 

“Thanks babe.” With that, she hopped off of the bed.

Jake blinked and reached for his T-shirt, pulling it over his head. 

"Ya mean right now?"

“Sure. He's right over there with Wesker – I'll be right back.” With another heartwarming smile, she went out the door.

Jake watched her go, then sighed and rubbed his forehead. It was good that Sherry was sympathetic toward Piers — he could probably get away with admitting to hugging the guy, even. The way he'd been thinking about the brunette's eyes, though, and his lips — that was a lot tougher to explain. Hopefully he wouldn't have to anytime soon.


	11. Work Stuff

Leaning forward in the chair had made Chris's back stiff. When he went to sit up, though, he felt a tiny hand in his. Limp.

There was also beeping nearby. A heart monitor.

Medical equipment? He sat up and glanced around quickly, disoriented. Where... 

His eyes fell on the little hand he held, though, and he stopped, holding his breath. It was bright in the room, and clean, and his back didn't sting anymore. 

He was dreaming again.

The small hand belonged to Piers – his son. The toddler was tucked into a medical bed and hooked up to a lot of medical equipment. Across the bed sat Wesker. He was holding the kid version of Jake on his lap and looking very soberly at Piers. His crystal blue eyes were glossy and tired. 

The events of the last dream came rushing back to Chris all at once, and he groaned and put a hand over his face. 

"No..." This was all wrong. If his mind came up with this idyllic little life for him to live and escape the stresses of reality, why would even the dreams confront him with losing people? And it was Piers again — and it was his fault, again. 

Wesker looked over at him, shifting the dozing toddler in his arms. 

“You're awake,” the blond said very evenly. He seem exhausted – he was pale and the bags under his eyes were surprisingly dark.

“I guess,” Chris answered heavily, focusing on little Jake cuddling into the front of Wesker's shirt. He bit his lip sadly and looked at Piers again. The little boy was perfectly still, with bandages wrapped around his forehead. He looked tiny in the middle of the big medical bed. “...”

“You guess? Did you hope you'd close your eyes and this would all just be a dream?” The blond snorted. He seemed much more like the real Wesker now — cold and distant. 

He was closer to being right than he thought. Chris figured that was because his head was inventing this scenario in the first place. 

"Doesn't feel real," he replied quietly, looking at Piers still. "So yeah, I guess I'm awake. I'm never sure anymore."

Wesker suddenly shook his head, sighing heavily. 

“I'm...I'm sorry.” Gently rocking Jake, he looked back up at Chris – this time with a softer expression. “It's been a long night. Jake should be in bed.” He stood up and circled the room, snagging a pillow off of a nearby table and sitting in front of Chris. “How's your head?” The tall blond gently ran a fingertip along Chris's forehead.

Chris looked up at him sadly and shook his head. 

"It doesn't matter." It really didn't; next time he woke up, he'd still have some kind of aches and pains, they would just be in different locations. Now that Wesker mentioned it, his forehead did sting. Clearly Piers was in worse shape, though.

There was a slight knock on the door as another blond man entered. He was slightly shorter than Wesker, and in a light jacket. 

“Sorry, the nurse thought it'd be okay to come in.”

Wesker turned immediately at the sound of his voice, hugging Jake tightly. 

“Bill?”

William looked between him and Chris with a questioning look. 

“It IS okay, right?”

Chris glanced at him and then looked down at the floor, waving his arm. He didn't care, he really didn't. 

Birkin leaned close to Wesker and whispered worriedly. 

The tall blond frowned and they stepped further away from Chris. They spoke in murmurs for a few minutes – but Wesker shook his head. 

“You can't expect me to leave NOW, Bill!” He gestured to Piers.

“Shh, shh.” William stepped up practically against Wesker – shoulder to shoulder – and placed a soothing hand on his friend's shoulder. He was upset about something, and Chris could pick out a few choice words. “...was bitten. We need...this now-”

“Not until my son wakes up,” Wesker hissed though clenched teeth. He turned away from Bill and looked at Piers sadly.

The man in the jacket ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. 

“Alright Al.” After a few more seconds of considering talking to Wesker again, the blond shook his head and left.

Chris sat there numbly, the words repeating in his head. Bitten? Someone was bitten? He looked up just as Bill closed the door behind him, first at the door and then to Wesker. 

"He wanted you to leave?"

Wesker returned to his side, leaning down and kissing Chris's head. 

“Work stuff. It can wait.”

Chris turned and looked at little Jake in the blond's arms. 

"I...I left them alone. It's my fault, isn't it?" 

Why was Birkin here talking about bites and emergencies? Now this whole thing felt more like a nightmare than a dream. Things were falling apart, just like they were in real life. The base was gone, and he was sure the others thought he was insane for getting as close to Wesker as he'd been getting. 

And now this.

“Kids get themselves into trouble, Chris.” The blond moved his own chair over beside Chris's and sat down. “It's not your fault. Serves me right for leaving that damn tree in the yard.” He bit his lip.

From where Chris was sitting, he could see Birkin linger outside of the door for a moment before leaving. At least Wesker had stayed.

Chris brought a hand up and felt his forehead carefully. Stitches, from the feel of it. He was glad he hadn't been "awake" to see everyone's reactions to finding Piers unconscious under the tree and him nearby with his head bleeding. 

"How is he?" He swallowed hard and looked at Piers again. "W-what did the doctor say? I'm sorry, I don't remember if I've heard it already."

His husband looked worriedly at him but explained, “His right arm is broken – it broke most of his fall. Then his head. The doctor said that if it hadn't been for the mud he landed in, he'd be dead.” Wesker's voice sounded strained, and he hugged Jake closer. 

The right arm. The arm Piers had lost in real life, before he'd taken the C-virus. Chris reached over and took hold of the little boy's hand again, squeezing it gently. 

"And how long since it happened? He's been unconscious ever since?" 

“It's been about fourteen hours,” Wesker mumbled, stroking Jake's hair softly. “The doctor said he should be awake...but he isn't.”

Fourteen hours?

"He's in a coma," Chris concluded, staring at Piers. It was just a dream, right? He'd wake up and Piers would be an adult, and he'd be fine, more or less. This felt so real, though. 

A nurse poked her head in the door. 

“Mr. Wesker? There's a woman here to see you. She says she's your sister?”

Wesker looked to Chris expectantly. 

“Go say hello – I'll get you if he wakes up,” he added halfheartedly. 

Chris glanced at the nurse, confused for a moment before he realized that he was the Mr. Wesker she was addressing. Right. Husband. 

Getting to his feet, he turned and looked at Wesker for a moment, feeling like he should do or say something. Nothing seemed appropriate, though...so he finally just nodded a little and stepped toward the door. 

"Lead the way," he told the nurse quietly.

The small woman waved him along. 

“I would have sent her in, but her boyfriend seemed a little freaked out.”

Both Claire and Leon were in the waiting room. His sister was pacing and biting her nails while Leon sat with his head in his hands. He had been there when Piers had jumped out of the tree.

Right, Chris reminded himself. He'd just "met" Leon the previous day as far as these dreams were concerned.

"Claire," he said quietly, stepping over to his sister. What was he supposed to say here? There was no good news to report. 

She turned and hugged him tightly. 

“Oh my god Chris!” Claire squeezed him and then sat back to look him in the eyes. “Is he okay?”

Leon got up and came over, reaching out and patting Chris's arm. He looked like he hadn't slept since it happened either.

Chris glanced at him, then back to Claire. 

"He's...he's stable," he said, trying to phrase it in a way that didn't sound terrible. "But he won't wake up." 

Claire stared up at him and patted his shoulder. 

“I'm sure he will. He's a tough little kid.” She leaned to glance at Wesker. “How's Albert doing? You said he and Piers weren't getting along...he must feel terrible.” She cringed. “Do you want me to go grab you guys some coffee?”

“I'll get it,” Leon said, hurrying off to locate the food table.

"We'll be okay," Chris sighed. "Could you maybe watch Jake for awhile? I-I don't think Wes — A-Al's gotten any sleep at all." He didn't really trust himself with Jake, either — not with the way this him seemed to nod off anywhere at any time. Was he sleeping anytime he wasn’t playing out one of these dreams?

“Of course. I don't mind at all,” Claire accepted.

Leon returned with a cup of steaming coffee in each hand. 

“I didn't know what you guys like – so I hope black's okay.”

Chris took both mugs off of his hands, looking at the blond gratefully. 

"This is fine. Thank you, Leon...thanks for sticking around." He looked down at the coffee sadly and turned to slowly walk back into the room to Wesker. 

He wouldn't have given Wesker coffee, except that he was pretty certain his husband couldn't think of sleeping any more than he could right now. And coffee seemed like some sort of love token between the two of them. He wondered if it was the same for the real Wesker.

The handsome blue eyed blond had taken Chris's place in holding Piers' hand. He looked so mournful that the scene looked like something from a funeral. Jake was still sleeping on his lap.

Placing the coffee on the small table beside the bed, Chris turned and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Al, Claire's gonna take Jake for awhile. Okay?" he said gently. "You're right, he should be in bed." 

Wesker looked up at him sadly and nodded. Letting go of Piers' hand, he stood up. 

“Is she outside?”

"Yeah. Leon stuck around, too," Chris told him, sighing. "I'll stay with Piers." It wasn't necessary to say, but he said it anyway.

The blond man nodded and went out of the room without comment. Claire was right. He probably felt bad about how he had treated Piers earlier.

Chris sat beside the bed again and looked at Piers. If anybody had told him before this week that he'd soon be in a hospital with his son seriously injured, he would've told them that hospitals and any kids of his didn't exist. Of course, if one had told him he'd be married to Wesker, or that his kid would have some weird estrangement from his husband over a flash drive...

Wait. The flash drive. He stuck his hand in his pocket and drew the muddy little thing out, frowning at it. Maybe Wesker didn't need to hear about that right now. Might just make him feel worse about Piers. Then again, it would set his mind at ease where work was concerned. Top secret work, apparently.

Involving viruses – and biting. A chill tickled Chris's spine. The drive looked exactly like the one Wesker had left him before – maybe its contents were similar. Some kind of close-kept secret...like his love for Chris.

And this work was apparently so important that Birkin thought it was more important than Piers. Wesker hadn't agreed, though, and that was reassuring somehow. The real Wesker probably would have just left. Chris turned the flash drive over in his hand and examined the USB end of it. It didn't look damaged — just a little muddy and gritty. 

He stuffed it back into his pocket. He'd give it back to Wesker, but now wasn't the right time. Maybe it wouldn't be the right time until Chris had taken a look at what was saved on it and reassured himself that it wasn't about Umbrella after all.

The tiny hand on the bed twitched – but as it did, Chris felt his chest sting. His arms grew heavy. His head throbbed. 

“Dad?” Piers' small voice asked wearily – and then Chris woke with a start. 

He had been sleeping leaned on the back of his chair.

Wesker was talking quietly somewhere behind him. 

“...You should know better.”

There was another voice – Piers. He sounded miserable, and more than a little grumpy at having to deal with Chris's ex-rival. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Live with it,” Wesker said coldly. 

Startled by the change — the shock and relief that Piers had just awakened and spoke to him — Chris sat bolt upright in his chair, struggling with the blanket wrapped closely around his arms. 

"Piers?" He threw the blanket off and turned quickly toward the voices.

Not unlike in his dreams, Wesker had Piers tightly by the arm. They were both sitting on some piled up boxes. The small brunette looked like he might have been crying with how red his eyes were, but he was just surprised by Chris, turning around and stared at the muscular man with wide gray eyes.

“Captain?”

"You're okay?" Chris couldn't help the concerned look on his face as he glanced from Piers to Wesker and back again. "What's wrong — live with what?" He brought a hand to his forehead and felt where the stitches had been, frowning.

“N-nothing,” Piers mumbled shyly. Wesker released his arm and came over to Chris's side, placing a hand on his back.

“Are you alright? You seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough.”

Chris's gaze lingered on Piers, and his brows furrowed unhappily. 

"I'm fine. Just bad dreams again," he muttered, sitting up and rubbing his forehead. "How is Piers? Does he need any more treatments soon?" It occurred to him that any equipment in the base had gone down with it.

“I am doing what I can, but I need to visit that lab again,” Wesker said. “I have the samples safe, but the equipment is not easy to replace.” He nodded over to Piers. “He should be fine for another eight or so hours, but after that – strap him down.”

Piers' eyebrows saddened at the sound of that, but he stayed quiet.

Chris sat up, nodding. 

"Then we get the supplies you need. How long does a round trip from there to here take?" He was trying to shake off the lingering concern from the dreamscape's troubles still, and sounded uncertain. 

“We?” Wesker said dubiously. “I'll go. I can make it there and back much faster alone.”

"'We' means I'll help you, if there's anything I can do to help," Chris sighed, looking over at Piers. "Anything to get ready here while you're gone? Do you need Jake and Sherry here again?"

The tall blond sighed deeply. 

“As I just said, I have the samples. I just need some new equipment.”

“You can strap me down, captain,” Piers offered. He didn't seem thrilled about the idea. “In six hours.”

Ignoring the small brunette, Wesker rubbed Chris's back nicely, careful of the bandaged knife injury. 

“Just get some more rest if you can.”

"Wesker will probably be back by then," Chris assured Piers, glancing at the blond for confirmation. How far was the lab from here, anyway? Wesker hadn't really answered the question about travel time. Tiredly, he added, "And I can't just sit here and nap."

He got to his feet, leaning to pick the blanket up from the floor.

Wesker was at his side in the blink of an eye, strong hands holding Chris steady. 

“You've been sliced in the back, bashed in the head – twice – and have barely slept in days.” He pushed Chris back into the chair with ease. “Get a few more hours of sleep.” A gloved hand rested on the large man's shoulder. “Please.”

In all the time that he had known Wesker, Chris couldn't recall a single time he had said ‘please’ while asking for anything. The red eyed man stepped back slowly, smoothing his hair with a hand. “I'll be back as soon as possible.”

A bit stunned, Chris leaned back in the chair and nodded. Wesker had a point — he probably wasn't thinking very clearly right now. 

"Okay," he agreed, "I'll rest. But tell Leon I need to talk to him."

Wesker paused to think and nodded before heading off in a twirl of long black coat. Where did he keep finding those?

Watching the scientist go, Piers got up as quietly as he could and sneaked toward the ramp. Chris needed to rest, after all.

The brunette looked after him, though. 

"Hey, Piers?" He called, sitting up slightly again.

Cringing as he turned back to face him, Piers cleared his throat. 

“Yes captain?”

"I'm glad you're here," Chris said, slowly wrapping the blanket around his own shoulders again. He leaned back in the chair once more and sighed..

That wasn't all that he wanted to say, but he was pretty sure his dreams of having Piers as a son were clouding his judgment. Telling Piers he was having dreams about him as a toddler wasn't a good idea, that was for sure

The brunette moved back closer and Chris noticed that the dark patches of skin were back, covering Piers' cheek. His neck was hidden by a very familiar scarf. 

“So am I,” The small soldier insisted. “I'm sorry. It's just...” He waved after Wesker and trailed off to a mumble. 

Looking at the scarf a bit curiously, Chris admitted, "I-I never thought I'd see you and Wesker in the same room. I bet I seem crazy to you right now, huh?" He studied Piers' face thoughtfully.

Piers looked at him sadly. 

“...Not that crazy, captain.” He came over and perched on a box near Chris. “Everything I've heard about him makes me think he's just tricking us – then he turns around and says something amazing.” The gray eyed man smiled slightly. “Jake's a lot like him.”

Glancing at him, the older man offered a small smile. 

"Yeah...he's definitely Wesker's son. Hates to hear it, though."

Piers nodded and looked up at him. 

“I'm glad I got a chance at a second impression. He's actually kind of cool,” he added, playing with his scarf shyly. Compared to how Piers used to act, he seemed much more gentle now – quieter. A little broken. “Saved my ass from that lab.”

"He's grown up a little," Chris agreed, feeling an odd blend of familiarity and concern. He was pretty sure the dreams were to blame, but there was something else, too. 

Piers used to be so set on their cause. Downright hotheaded about it if challenged, too. Now he didn't really have a cause, and Chris imagined the young man felt the same way he did about that. Lost. Listless. Only he didn't have others insisting that he lead them to snap him out of it, and the J'avo condition had to make him feel like a burden.

"Everything's different now," he said softly, looking down. "No BSAA, no government to answer to. I've been in the military my whole life, and I know it's the same for you, so believe me, I know this isn't easy."

Piers suddenly leaned forward, resting his head in his hands and biting his lip. He took a breath and forced himself to calm down, adding a quick nod. 

“It's good to know you're here. You make it feel like I haven't lost my life.” He smirked sadly – gaze on the floor. “Thanks for that.”

Chris reached over and patted the sniper's shoulder, memories of a much younger Piers hugging him and crying drifting through his mind. 

"I-I think I understand that a little too well. Don't you dare feel like a burden, or like you're trouble for me. I'm glad you're here," he repeated.

“Captain.” Piers sat up and slapped a hand over Chris's. “I...” He looked at Chris with stormy gray eyes and stuttered. “I-I know.” He finally said, seeming to settle on those words instead of what was on his mind. He squeezed Chris's hand. “I'll do my best, captain.”

Nodding, Chris leaned back in his chair again. Somehow he felt much more weary when he wasn't forced to sit up. He wondered if Wesker had told Leon to come talk to him already, or if the blond had deliberately waited so that Chris could sleep some more.

Waited. Time. He glanced at Piers, then at the nearest window. It was dark outside. 

"We have to keep an eye on the time," he sighed. "Don't let me sleep past sunrise."

“Sunrise?” Piers asked.

“Chris!” Leon's voice from the lower floor made the small brunette flinch. His wide eyes glinted as he stared off of the edge to the man below. “Hey kid – is Chris up there?”

“I'm not a kid,” Piers objected weakly, waving a hand at Chris to join him.

Hauling the blanket along with one hand halfheartedly, Chris stepped over and placed a hand on the railing. 

"I'm here."

“What the hell? Why's Wesker allowed to leave? We need him here!” Leon yelled, a shotgun slung over his shoulder. “What if we have to leave? What'll happen to HIM?” He pointed to Piers.

“Wesker said he'd be back as soon as he can be–”

“Not talking to you, Piers.” Leon sighed, looking pointedly at Chris. “There's a guy outside. Says he knows a girl that knows a guy named Chris Redfield. I tried to shoo him away, but he won't go until he sees you,” the blond admitted grumpily.

Chris stared at him. 

"Someone's outside?" How exactly had somebody who knew him known he'd be in the mall when he hadn't been there until tonight? Frowning, he clarified, "Does this guy have a name?"

“Bill or something – come on. He's drawing way too much attention being out there.”

Bill? Chris's mind instantly summoned the memories of William Birkin from his dreams, but he only frowned and reached for his shirt. That Bill was long dead, and even if he wasn't, his own research made sure he was no longer anywhere close to looking human. 

"I'll be right down. Wesker's on a mission, by the way," he said shortly, turning and heading over to the chair again to pull his shirt back on.

Piers followed him. He looked a little ticked at Leon. They hadn't exactly hit it off either of the times they met previously. The first time, Piers had a gun aimed at him and the second time Leon had wanted to throw him back out of the base. Wonderful.

It couldn't help that Leon knew about the J'avo condition and probably saw Piers as a ticking time bomb that led to a threat to the others. Chris couldn't really argue with that description, but it wasn't like Piers wanted to be a threat. It wasn't his fault.

"I need you to hang back a bit, okay?" He told the younger man as they stepped toward the stairs. "Just let me talk to him."

“Yes sir,” Piers said in habit, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. He squinted at the main gate curiously, but stayed where he was.

Leon led the way, shotgun at the ready. Whoever it was, he actually saw them as a threat.

Chris followed him, noting the shotgun but leaving his own weapon behind. He was confident that if anything tried attacking him, Leon would make short work of it.

The man outside the gate finally came into view. It was dark outside, so it was difficult to make out his features. He didn't look familiar.

He had smoothed back dark hair and intense narrow eyes. He looked about Chris's age – forty something – and the first word that popped into Chris's mind when he finally saw him was surprising. 

Sexy. 

He was well built — around six feet of solid muscle — and dressed in a ripped black leather vest, blood stained tank top, and thick well worn jeans. On his right arm he sported a large tattoo, and there was a large silver magnum on his hip. While Chris was sizing him up, he did the same. 

“You Redfield?” The man finally asked, taking a step closer to the light of the gate.

“Yeah, this is Chris – now beat it,” Leon demanded impatiently. “You're making the zombies drool.”

“Shut up,” the man grumbled his way, eyes still locked on Chris. Leon snorted indignantly. He was being uncharacteristically grumpy.

Chris held a hand out to get Leon to back down a bit, keeping his eyes focused on the newcomer. The guy reminded him a bit of the men who had sunken the base — dangerous. He looked less clean-cut then them, though, and was gutsy enough to walk around without much body armor on.

"You said you know a friend of mine," he prompted.

“Yeah. Rebecca said when the world finally blew up, go find you.” He glanced back into the base, dark eyes scanning Piers with a frown. “Is she here?”

"Rebecca..." Chris looked him over again quickly, blinking. Nope, still didn't look familiar. "How do you know her?"

“We...dated,” the man said slowly. He moved close enough to rest a hand on the cage gate. “Look. Is she here or not?”

Chris crossed his arms, giving the guy a hard stare for a moment. 

Finally, he admitted, "Sorry, she's not. I haven't heard from her since everything started falling apart."

“Shit,” 'Bill-something' growled, turning to stare off into the dark landscape. “She said she'd be here.” He turned back to Chris and leaned on the fence again. “That other base. You guys ran from there.” He mumbled something to himself and headed off.

“Hey!” Leon yelled after him, leaning on the gate.

"Hold up a minute," Chris called after him grimly. "If she DOES show up, at least leave me a name to let her know you were here."

He really hoped that Rebecca had not been in the base. No, she would have just revealed herself. There was no reason to hide from him and the team...except maybe Wesker apparently working with them like he'd been there all along. Great, now he was worried she HAD been in the base...

The man circled back angrily, glaring daggers at Leon. 

“Billy – and if she shows up, keep her here. I'll be back in a few days.” He aimed a finger at Leon. “And if you move – I'll find you.”

The blond blinked, leaning his shotgun casually on the gate. 

“Is that a threat?”

Billy jerked a thumb at Leon and shook his head. 

“Your boyfriend's really annoying.” The comment earned him another growl from Leon. Their first conversation must have gone really poorly.

Chris sighed. Bickering was pointless, and he was tired. 

"We'll move if it's necessary to move," he told Billy flatly. "But if you've got a radio, you can contact us on channel 19. If you ask nicely, Leon MIGHT let me know about your call." 

He added a pointed look. 

Billy looked at Leon for a moment, weighing that option. He tucked his pistol into the back of his jeans and dug through a torn up bag that was on his back. After a few seconds, he pulled out a radio. 

“It broke.” He offered it through the gates. “Keep it. I'll find a soldier or something.”

Leon took it.

The dark haired man sighed. “Look. On my way here, I met some guys. They were in a decked out jeep full of supplies. They knew you were here.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Watch your back.”

Finally, the scowl on Leon's face lightened at the warning. 

“A jeep? Black? Did the license plate start with '99?'”

Billy looked over at him and nodded. 

“Yeah. It did.”

Leon quickly turned to Chris. 

“That's one of ours from the base.”

"We appreciate the heads-up," Chris told Billy grimly. Great — if the group really did just want supplies, then Chris's group now had nothing they wanted. If they were the type to get payback for a certain pair of their pals who met a nasty end thanks to Wesker, though...

“We should go after them,” Leon said quietly. “That jeep had supplies. Guns. Ammo.” He waved past Billy. “We could snipe them.”

The man outside of the gate leaned on it again. 

“So you know them, huh?”

"They're the same group that sunk the base," Chris informed him, looking out into the landscape with a frown. He was pretty sure Wesker had taken the one Jeep they had left. They would have to walk there if they went after these guys. "How far out would you say they are?"

“At least a mile,” Billy said calmly, pulling his pistol back out and checking it over. 

“Captain.” Piers came over to Chris's side. “I'll go – you know I'm a good sniper,” he pleaded.

Billy sighed heavily.

"The best," Chris agreed, glancing at Billy. He turned to Piers. "But we're gonna have to walk this, Piers. It could take hours." He frowned. "I can't risk keeping you away for too long, especially if Wesker gets back before we do."

“Then we'll make it fast,” Piers insisted. “Let's leave now. This guy knows where they are.” He gestured to Billy. “Just give me a pistol.”

“Cute kid. He yours?” Billy asked Chris, pushing off the fence. “Whatever you guys wanna do, pick up the pace. I have a tiny woman to find.”

Yeah, that was a pretty accurate description of Rebecca. Chris shook his head. 

"No, if you come along you're on sniper duty. Rifle," he said flatly. To Billy, he added, "Step inside while we grab some gear — the zombies seem to like you." 

He waved for Leon and Piers to follow and headed back inside quickly. Wesker wasn't going to be happy about this, but always operating on the defensive wasn't enough. Not when these people had proven that they would come after others if left to their own devices. 

That, and they had supplies that didn't belong to them.


	12. Still Here

This stupid night was taking forever. 

Jake hadn't been able to sleep, especially when Sherry didn't return from her "just next door" visit to Piers. After awhile, the redhead had gotten tired of staring at the ceiling, and had gone up to the roof of the mall to get away from the group in the rest of the building. 

The other survivors were not anybody he knew that well, and frankly they were pretty whiny and demanding. As much as he'd adjusted his self-centered ways, Jake really didn't give a damn about more than a handful of people in this group, and with no separate rooms to retreat to, they were starting to annoy him quickly. 

So he went to the roof. The groaning zombies weren't much better company, though, and he was heading right back down to bed within half an hour. As he was rounding the corner from the maintenance room to the main floor of the mall, he saw Chris, Leon and Piers stepping inside from the entrance. 

They were followed by a mean-looking guy with an enormous tribal tattoo on one arm who looked like he could kill somebody with an ink pen in a pinch. Fantastic.

Piers hurried off from the group, pausing to talk to a guard before they both disappeared into the group of survivors. He looked excited about something.

The tattooed man gave Jake a passing glance before looking back to Chris. 

“I'll wait here.” He leaned against the wall not to far from the gate, crossing his arms.

“You do that.” Leon sighed, leading Chris away by the arm and lowering his voice. “What do you think Wesker will do if he gets back here first?”

"Hopefully what I ask him to do," Chris said, glancing at the hand gripping his arm. He frowned. "Which is to work on the next treatment for Piers. He said he already has the samples."

Jake stepped around the corner and went to lean against the wall, crossing his arms and sizing up the man with the tattoo. He had a large magnum pistol in a holster on his hip that looked like it was VERY well-maintained. The fact that Chris and the others weren't exactly all smiles and greetings told him they didn't know this guy too well, even if he was a friend from the past. He sure didn't look happy to be here.

Better and better.

“No, I mean if we aren't back yet,” The blond clarified. “Things didn't exactly go smoothly last time you left him on his own.” Leon rubbed his shoulder lightly with a cringe. “Maybe you should stay here.”

Chris turned to him and patted his shoulder, careful to pick the one he hadn't just been cringing about. 

"He told me about that. He sounded kind of impressed you stood up to him." He paused. "That's part of why I think it would be better if YOU stayed here."

“What?” Leon's mouth dropped open. “You think I'm going to send you and PIERS out there alone? He's already half zombie, Chris. I need to be there in case we need to restrain him.”

“Who's half zombie?” The tattooed man asked, eyebrows lowering.

“He means me.” Piers walked past Jake to rejoin Chris. “But we'll be back here before any of that matters.”

The man watched him curiously but didn't comment further.

Jake decided now was a good time to step over — glancing after Piers as he passed and promptly following him. 

"Did I hear that right?" He asked, keeping his voice low. "You're going somewhere right now?"

"You are, too," Chris informed him. He faced Leon again. "This's better — I'll feel better knowing you're running things while I'm gone. And we aim to be back before any restraint's necessary, but if it is, Jake's life won't be in danger from a scratch or bite."

Piers looked back up at Jake, a large rifle strapped to his chest. He kept his voice low in return. 

“We're gonna go kill the assholes that sunk the base. They're joyriding around in the Jeep.”

With a groan, Leon nodded in agreement. 

“Fine. But if you can't get a clear shot or this guy,” he gestured to Billy, “gives you trouble – get your butts back here as fast as possible.”

"You have my word," Chris promised him. "I know we're working within a limited time frame. If time runs too low, we'll abort the mission as well." He turned to Jake. "Get your gun, we're ready to head out."

The redhead was looking at Piers and his rifle with a small scowl. 

"Fine. If anybody's seen Sherry, let her know what the hell's going on." He headed off to get his pistol, adjusting his gloves and looking none too pleased.  


* * *

  
Besides the equipment, Albert grabbed many other 'goodies' he had hidden away in the old Umbrella lab. Ammo, a pistol, a first aid kit, a spare whatever would fit comfortably in a duffel. He also took a suitcase packed full of microbiology equipment – petri dishes, a microscope and the like.

After being surrounded by useless people for days and guarding Chris every waking moment, being alone made him feel...anxious.

Those fools couldn't keep themselves alive, much less Chris. At the first sign of danger, they fled. And the muscular brunette was just stupid enough to try and save the stragglers. Marvelous.

Stepping out of the lab's side door onto the ruined pavement with a crunch, Wesker looked over the dark landscape. The darkness made every sound vivid to his ears – though he could still see relatively clearly. He heard the zombies' familiar off-balance staggers, heavy groans…and small footsteps. Soft, but calculated and even. Someone human.

He listened and headed silently in that direction. He wouldn't have bothered to check who it was, but the mall was in the same direction anyway. As stealthy as ever, he stepped lightly on top of a nearby taxi and looked for the source of the footsteps.

He spotted the woman immediately. She was very petite, just a little over five feet tall, wearing a dark hoodie sweatshirt that hid most of her face, a pair of green cargo pants and some lace-up brown army boots. 

Of more interest to Wesker, though, were the backpack with the red cross on it that she carried and the gun in a holster on her hip. She was stepping quietly around another dead car, making a beeline for the base and avoiding zombies along the way. 

A doctor, the blond thought, stepping down from the car and following her more closely. Having a medical doctor around for Sherry would greatly improve her chances of having a healthy baby. While Wesker knew he could make educated guesses, someone trained would be more ideal.

She was already heading the right way. Once she discovered that the base was sunk – if she was heading there – she would probably be easy to sway towards the mall.

He quickened his steps, moving up to several feet behind her without a sound. 

It would be quicker to just grab her, take her back with him and explain later. But a screaming girl would attract a lot of zombies to Chris's front door. Unacceptable. 

Unsure what to say, he just cleared his throat loudly.

She froze in her tracks, a hand already on her gun out of reflex. She didn't draw it, though — probably knew somebody who deliberately made his presence known didn't want to shoot her. Instead, the woman turned around slowly, and a pair of big green eyes peered up at him from under the hood. 

He'd seen that face before.

The blond stopped dead in his tracks. Chambers. Rebecca Chambers. Wesker's mind instantly pulled up old memories from the mansion incident. Twisting hallways, chained monsters and Chris – trying to lead Rebecca to safety from the madman that had trapped them there. Him.

“Officer Chambers. It's been a long time,” he said as nicely as he could. Last time she had seen him, he had just begun his rant about taking over the world. His attempts at driving himself mad had been successful – but not of erasing his memories. While his sanity had returned, he could still recall his thoughts at the time. She had been nothing more than a pest to be swatted off of his sleeve, which was why he had shot her.

Rebecca's hand dropped from the gun, and she stared at him. 

"Captain Wesker?" She took a step backward, wide-eyed. "But you're..." 

Wesker quirked an eyebrow at her. 

“Dead? Yes – several times over. But that's not important right now.” He sat the suitcase down and ran a hand through his hair, glad he had snagged a pair of spare shades from his hideout. “A lot has changed.” He sighed deeply. “I have no way to convince you of anything that I am going to say, but...” He shrugged. 

Explaining things now before he kidnapped her would hopefully gain him a little credit later when she discovered it was all true.

“When we last met, I was not in my right mind. Far from it. There's no need to go over all of the things I did – as I know that you were there.” He paused. Explaining took so long...Maybe he could leave that to Chris?

Warily, Rebecca pulled down her hood. Her hair was in the same pixie style that he remembered it, although the hood made it stick up in a disheveled way. Somehow she still looked like she might be in her twenties, even this many years later. 

"What do you want?" She asked evenly, eying the pack of supplies he carried. She didn't accept or reject the explanation he'd given.

“Your help,” Wesker said honestly. Glossing over a few facts might be necessary. “My daughter-in-law is pregnant.” He gestured to her. “I saw the cross on your bag.”

The petite woman placed her hands on her hips and frowned. 

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm about 99 percent sure you're not even here right now. Why would you come out here to the middle of nowhere to find a doctor?"

“Chris sent me to the abandoned Umbrella facility to get equipment to treat one of his soldiers.” Or something like that. The conversation was taking too long as it was.

"Chris," Rebecca said flatly. "You're taking orders from Chris Redfield? Now I know you're making this up."

“Chris and I are on the same side,” the tall blond said impatiently. “I don't have time to explain all of this.” He picked back up the suitcase and held it in the same arm the duffel was over. “You have to come with me.”

"I'll drop everything and get right on that," the brunette replied flatly, frowning. "Why should I help you? Last time I saw you, you SHOT me point-blank."

Wesker slumped ever so slightly. Leading a stream of zombies back to the mall would mean more restless hours for Chris. She had to be cooperative. 

“I was insane,” he said calmly. “I know that's not an excuse – I regret my actions, but there's no way to make amends for them now. Far too many have died.”

Why in the world was he telling her this? Wasting time while a cure could be made? Putting on his best emotionless expression, he circled past her. He could deliver the baby on his own.

Rebecca turned to stay facing him as he passed, still frowning. She seemed to be considering silently. 

Wesker had only gone a few steps when he heard her say, "I've got to meet with someone. Haven't heard from him. I hope it's just a broken radio, but I can't exactly call and tell him I'm not showing up."

The blond man turned back to her. 

“Where?”

She gave him that wary look again, but answered reluctantly, "Another base not far from here. An underwater one."

“To find Chris,” he replied. “He's not there. The base was flooded. We are stationed in the mall for now.” Wesker gestured the way that he was headed with his free hand.

"Flooded?" Rebecca glanced quickly the way she'd been about to travel, then back to him. She bit her lip. "Chris isn't who I'm meeting with. I didn't even know he was staying near here." 

“I find that highly unlikely.” Wesker sighed. “It seems too much of coincidence that you used to know Chris and now happened to be headed to where he was known to be for months.”

"Well, I find you not being insane 'highly unlikely'," Rebecca shot back, frowning at him. "And I've got to get going. If Chris is at the mall, I'll come by after the rendezvous with Billy."

Wesker slowly moved back closer to her. 

“There is a Jeep outside of the base. The men inside are responsible for sinking the base – they'll shoot you on sight. Stay hidden.”

Pulling her hood back up, the brunette gave a single short nod. 

"Roger that." She paused, looking up at him thoughtfully. "...You said you've got a son?"

“His name is Jake – you might like him. He despises me too,” the blond man said coolly. He turned and started back to the base and mall. He should’ve really just flipped the Jeep into the ocean and been done with it, but he was short on time. Maybe later.

Rebecca offered no reply. As he walked away, he heard the soft footsteps start again — quickly.  


* * *

  
It didn't take them very long to reach the old base – but the men had pulled into a ruined building, making it significantly harder to get a clear shot. They were staying hidden to avoid attracting zombies.

Piers' dark scarring had come back enough that it was easy to see in the growing early morning light. He hugged the rifle to his chest, perched patiently beside Jake. Chris had noticed that the small soldier had kept his distance from him during the whole trip, sticking to Jake's side instead. Now that they were ducked down in an old ice cream truck for cover, they were all shoulder to shoulder.

Jake was doing his best to look nonplussed by the whole situation, but Chris noticed how often he glanced at Piers. The sniper really did act quieter and softer than he used to, and in turn Jake seemed to be protective of him. Almost exactly the way he did with Sherry, Chris realized, bemused.

He nodded to Piers. 

"You got a clean shot if anybody comes outside?" He was confident that the thieves would pack up and move as soon as it was light out. They had a Jeep and were heavily armed — they ought to be able to handle the zombies if they could see where to drive without breaking an axle.

Piers nodded to him. 

“I've shot much farther, captain.” He hefted the rifle up onto the ledge and peered through the scope. “But I think they aren't going to move for awhile.” He frowned and added softly, “It's almost sunrise sir.”

"We've still got hours," Chris reassured him, patting his shoulder. He glanced over at Billy and Jake. "...If they don't move soon, we might have to improvise, though. A couple people could go down there and draw them out — they won't expect a sniper."

The tattooed man slipped out the back of the truck and disappeared around the outside. 

“Beats sitting around.”

Piers looked after him with concern. 

“Shouldn't Jake do it? Bullets don't kill him.”

Jake glanced at him, then slid out of his seat and stepped after Billy. 

"Two targets distract 'em better than one anyway," he said. "On your mark, Redfield." 

"Go," Chris said immediately. "Don't get too close, try and draw them out."

Piers sat back up and watched out of the window. He bit his lip and looked through the rifle scope again. His hands were shaking.

Chris watched this with concern, but couldn't afford to distract him away from the scope. 

"Breathe," he reminded Piers, glancing at the window. "You can outsnipe me — you've got this."

“Captain, I'm n-not worried about the sniping,” the smaller man admitted, taking a breath. 

A loud shot from a magnum split through the quiet night air and Chris could hear several men yelling to each other.

Blowing out a sharp breath, Piers fired three shots in rapid succession. Then he dropped his gun. Moving back against the truck's wall, he pressed both his hands over his head. 

“I-I got the gunner – get out.” He waved toward the door quickly, whole body shaking. “Jake, get Jake,” Piers managed through pained gasps. 

There was another deafening magnum shot outside.

Chris stood and headed for the front of the truck quickly. 

"I will," he promised. "Hang in there." Sunrise had been an estimate he'd thought was at least two hours before any J'avo symptoms would show. Was the treatment wearing off quicker this time?

“I'm serious captain – leave. Now. Don't g-get shot,” Piers said through clenched teeth. “I need Jake. I don't want to bite anyone.”

Judging by the sounds outside, it had changed from guns to hand to hand. How many people had been in that jeep?

Chris took a glance outside to get an idea of where everyone was. 

To Piers, he said briefly, "I'll send Jake." And then he slipped outside, readying his gun to assist Billy and Jake. 

"Jake, fall back!" He called. The redhead was fist-fighting with two guys at once, and had just kicked one in the chest. 

Billy sat up from his cover behind a chunk of upturned sidewalk – taking out one of the two men. He laid back again to dodge a bullet. At least he seemed to know what he was doing.

Chris ducked under the nearest piece of cover he could find — another chunk of asphalt — and took a couple of pop shots at the shooters while they were focused on Billy. He hoped Jake was actually on his way back to Piers. He couldn't stop and look back to see.  


* * *

  
Jake had sent the last of his two opponents flying right after Chris shouted at him. He dashed back to the ice-cream truck. The only reason Chris would ask him to fall back before the fight was over was if Piers needed help.

Piers had abandoned the rifle in the ice cream truck's window and was curled into a very tight ball in the corner, head in his hands.

The redhead stepped cautiously inside, ignoring the rifle and moving over toward the sniper instead. Piers hadn't seemed to be in that bad of shape a few minutes ago. 

Seeing that he wasn't moving, Jake stepped right over beside him and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. 

"Hey..."

Piers jumped and looked up at him with tearful gray eyes. He was breathing fast as he grabbed Jake's arm. 

“I'm turning – I don't want to.” The brunette man seemed like he was in a panic more than anything.

He was still talking, which was better than how Jake had expected to find him. He sat down beside the brunette and looked him in the eyes. 

"You're still here right now, though." He patted Piers' hand on his arm.

Piers scooted closer and leaned his forehead against the edge of Jake's shoulder. Tears ran down his face as he tried to calm himself. 

“I don't want...I just don't...” He trailed off, tired eyes opening slightly to look around the ice cream truck. “Where are we?”

Jake turned toward him more with a worried frown. He put an arm around Piers' shoulders and placed the other gloved hand over his eyes gently, wondering if he remembered why there were gunshots still going off outside. 

“I've got you. Try and relax. You still remember me?” He recalled Piers having trouble with names and places back in the base, but that had been after flipping out and acting like a regular J'avo for a bit. He wasn't sure if the brunette had had memory problems before that, too.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Piers seemed to relax a little.

“Jake?” He asked in confusion, hand squeezing the taller man's arm. Piers suddenly gasped painfully, grabbing his temples again. “Ahh!” He shoved himself away from Jake and shook his head violently. “No, no – no!” Hunching over, he yelled in pain.

Remembering the way Piers had scratched his face during his last 'episode', Jake snatched both of the brunette's wrists and moved his hands away from his face. 

"Piers! Hey, look at me. Can you look at me?" He wasn't particularly worried about getting bitten or scratched, but Piers could go running off, so he kept a pretty firm grip.

Straining against Jake's grasp, Piers finally managed to squint up at him through watering eyes. He opened both of his eyes as much as he could – locking eyes with Jake. Gritting his teeth loudly, he took a sharp breath. 

“I d-don't want to bite you, Jake. Please.” He twisted his wrists in the redhead's grip and grimaced. Jake felt a strange tingling through his left palm – the one holding Piers' right wrist. “Please.”

"Then you won't," Jake said quietly. He wanted to glance at his tingling hand, but he refused to look away now that Piers was focused on him. "You're talking to me — look, ya even still know my name. Relax, you've got this." 

He wasn't sure if Piers actually could resist the J'avo side of him enough to stay in control, but the things he'd said were true for the moment. Piers definitely wasn't okay, but he was still sane enough. 

“Yeah – a virus. The zombie virus. I'm...” The brunette hunched forward against Jake, stifling back a sob. He took a deep breath again. “I'm okay,” he said, breathing evenly now. “I think it passed. C-can it do that?” 

Jake tilted his head, trying to get a good look at the sniper's eyes without letting of of his wrists just yet. 

"Did last time," he said. "You just calmed down suddenly while we were bringing you back to the medical room in the base. Look at me, okay?" 

Piers leaned back and looked up at him. His eyes were no longer blanched. They were his usual pale gray – though a little watery. He blinked a few times to clear them, tears trickling down his cheeks. Examining Jake's face since they were so close together, he swallowed. 

“We should go help Chris.”

Jake realized that it had gone completely quiet outside. 

He let go of Piers' wrists finally, patting the smaller man's shoulders instead. 

"Sounds like things've died down out there." He stood and stepped up to the window, using the scope on Piers' rifle to take a look around outside.

The men in the truck were dead. Jake could see Billy...but he was hurrying up the hill to meet someone – a petite woman in a hoodie.

Piers, however, took the opportunity to dive out of the ice cream truck – straight into Wesker's arms. The blond caught him with ease, eyebrows raising above his shades.

"Whoa! Where the hell did you come from?" Jake had whirled around when he heard Piers' quick footsteps as he dashed past, but the question was directed at his father, of course. He scowled at Wesker, stepping away from the rifle.

“The Umbrella facility,” Wesker replied calmly, keeping Piers off of the ground. The small brunette was struggling – his breathing growing ragged. 

“Let g-go of me!” Piers snarled, slapping a hand onto Wesker's neck. There was a strange pulse sound – and Wesker threw him to the ground. The small soldier hit hard enough to crush the rubble beneath him and stun him into silence.

The tall blond knelt over him, pinning his right arm firmly. 

“Don't. Do. That,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Jake was at his side in an instant, grabbing Wesker by the collar of his coat. 

"Get off of him!" He growled, giving the fabric a good shake for emphasis.

Wesker didn't budge, but looked up at him. 

“Be careful of his right arm,” he snapped, letting go of Piers and standing. “Where is Chris?”

"News flash: he only zaps people when they piss him off!" Jake immediately let go of him and moved to scoop Piers up from the floor. "Redfield's outside. We're here on HIS orders, by the way," he told Wesker angrily. 

He was pretty sure Piers had just been running for the door to go assist Chris; Wesker must have mistaken it for another episode. Seeing Piers get tossed around still pissed him off. It wasn't like Wesker OWNED him or something.

The brunette hugged him tightly around the neck, still a little frazzled from being thrown. After a moment, he leaned back and looked around for Chris. 

“Captain?” He called.

Wesker stepped over a large duffel and suitcase, looking around quickly for Chris as well. 

“Chris?”

The muscular brunette sat up in the seat of the Jeep, surprised to see Wesker there. 

"Wesker! Did Leon tell you where to find us?"

Jake held Piers protectively even after Wesker had stepped out of the ice-cream truck. 

"He's okay — I can hear him talking," he assured Piers softly. "How about you? He didn't hurt you, did he?" He looked down at the brunette, half-worried and half-angry still.

Piers looked back at him, nose to nose. 

“It felt like it, but it doesn't hurt anymore...I just feel weird.” He frowned and sighed. “I guess I sort of asked for it.” Holding up his right hand, Piers stared at it. “I'm not sure what happened, but I wanted it to.”

Jake glanced sidelong at his hand without turning his head. He frowned. 

"I got warned about your right hand before, too. And a minute ago it kinda tingled through my hand when you were talking about biting me, but you must not have wanted to." He looked back at Piers' eyes thoughtfully. They still glinted a little in the dim light, but were gray again.

Piers shyly slipped his right arm over Jake's shoulder, clearing his throat. 

“You can put me down. I'm not a zombie or anything.”

Jake shook his head, stepping out of their truck shelter and carrying Piers along. 

"You just got tossed on your head on the floor. I'll carry ya."

“Please.” Piers pleaded, mustering his best set of puppy eyes for Jake. His eyes were still shiny from crying – which only added to the effect. “This is kind of embarrassing.”

“You're injured,” Wesker said loudly, coming over to the Jeep to hop up beside Chris. “Don't tell me you were in a fight.”

Chris glanced around at the dead thieves he and the others had just finished dispatching. He looked back to Wesker tiredly. 

"Do I really have to tell you that?" 

Wesker growled in irritation. Now that he was sure Chris was safe, he doubled back to grab his supplies.

Chris's radio buzzed to life. 

“Chris! Come in!” 

It was Leon.

Frowning after Wesker, the brunette tapped the button on his headset. 

"Chris here, over."

Reluctantly, Jake placed Piers back on his feet on the ground. 

"Fine, but stick close to me, okay? Redfield practically brought me along to keep an eye on you," he pointed out, frowning.

He really didn't think there was much threat from Piers' J'avo side, but it was easier to explain than his sudden overprotectiveness. Hopefully next time Wesker had to get near Piers was to give him another dose of the treatment so that he could start recovering again.

“I will,” Piers assured him. He made his way over to Chris, glancing curiously at Billy and the hooded girl on the hill. “Who's that?”

“Chris, thank god,” Leon breathed in relief through the mic. “I need you back here right now. Drop what you're doing and start back now.”

"We're about to head back," Chris assured him. "What's going on over there?"

Jake looked over at Billy and the petite woman, who was hugging him tightly with no apparent concern for the damage to his tough guy image. 

"My guess is that's the friend of Redfield's he was out lookin' for."

“She reminds me of Sherry,” Piers said quietly, smiling ever so slightly.

“We have about two days to get the hell out of this mall,” Leon said quickly. “I'm headed down to the parking garage now to find some usable cars – just get back here. It's gonna be hard to keep everyone calm without telling them what's going on – but I need to talk to you first.”

"Roger that. Do your best to keep things steady — we'll be back soon," Chris promised. Then he turned the key in the Jeep's ignition and revved the engine to get the others' attention. "Everybody get in here," he called, waving Jake and Piers over. "We've gotta head back right now."

Not liking the sound of that, Jake frowned and started for the Jeep. He did make sure Piers was following him, though.

Billy came back down the hill, the girl in tow. 

Wesker also returned to the jeep, dropping his luggage into the back. He hopped up lightly and turned to offer Piers a hand up.

The small brunette man stared at the hand and then up at Wesker. He took it and climbed up the tire into the back as well. 

“Um, thanks.”

The tall blond noticed Billy and his traveling companion from earlier approaching, and moved up behind Chris. As if to prove a point.

Jake dashed off away from the Jeep. He returned a moment later, and loaded Piers' sniper rifle into the back before climbing in and settling right next to the small soldier.

"Chris!" The woman pulled her hood down and grinned at him, although her green eyes looked a bit tearful. "It's been forever. I knew you'd be around here!" 

"Glad to see you alive and well, Rebecca. Your friend here helped us recover a lot of important supplies," Chris said, nodding at Billy. He offered the woman a small, weary smile. "We can talk on the way — we're needed back at our new base." 

Looking at the Jeep loaded with guns and supplies (and Jake and Piers) Rebecca nodded quickly. 

"Roger! Come on, Billy." She smiled at him and grabbed one of his hands, doing her best to pull him along toward the Jeep.

Billy went willingly, giving her a boost up into the car and hopping up beside her. He looked Piers over with a frown, slinging a muscular arm over Rebecca's shoulder protectively.

Wesker leaned on the roll bars over Chris. 

“We're ready.”

Chris didn't wait to be told twice. He turned the Jeep around, and soon they were on their way back to the mall much faster than the walk to get there had taken. The group had several new members, and they once again had some medical supplies and rations to work with, but he was still filled with unease. Whatever Leon was in a panic about, it sounded big.


	13. Voluntary

“See, I wouldn't be that worried about the zombies but – Hunnigan, could you zoom in again?” Leon said into his radio set. The blond man had practically dragged Chris off the second they got home – leaving everyone to wonder what they two fearless leaders were up to. Wesker did not look pleased when they left. The tiny screen zoomed down to the ground, passing the large mob of zombies moving their way to the roof. Creeping across the building were at least six red figures – skinless. 

Lickers.

Chris looked at the readout, feeling a bit numb. He remembered those things — 'Lickers', they called them, because of the long tongues they had. They could crush skulls with those. 

"We're lucky they didn't see us when we got here... Are there any holes in the building besides the door?" 

“I don't know, but Wesker said he found a body inside and it looked like it had fallen from the roof. He said he'd make another round when you went to bed – but that's not happening.” Leon sighed, staring gloomily at the creatures on screen.

Chris frowned at the screen, shaking his head. 

"I can't sleep right now. If somebody could fall through the roof, the Lickers could crawl in through there. We have to find the hole and seal it."

“This mall is huge, Chris,” his friend said, finally tucking away the device. “We'd need everyone to look – and that means unarmed people too. What if there are zombies in here somewhere? A kid freaked out earlier and said she heard groaning.”

Sitting up, the brunette glanced back at the view of the mall beyond their little cafe meet-up area. 

"Most of these people can't follow orders," he said matter-of-factly. "You saw what happened when the base was flooding. They're with us because they want us to protect them from the B.O.W.s — if I tell them they may have to face one, they'll panic."

“Now you see my problem,” Leon grumbled, pacing to look at the civilians below them. “Leaving is an option, but then we're just a wandering buffet.” He turned back to Chris. “What about blocking off one part of the mall and securing it? We could block off a big department store or something and just be quiet until they pass.”

"That's good," Chris mused, stepping over to look at the people as well. He brought a hand to his head slowly and felt where the lump had been the day before. Still sore, but not as bad. "What if we just used the mall's own security fences? Each shop has a pull-down chain door that locks."

“Those don't stop Lickers,” Leon said sagely. “We both know that. We need to block out as much sound as possible, so covering the gates in between would be a good idea. Hunnigan can let us know when they get close.” The blond man leaned back on a table and shook his head. “What're we going to tell everyone?”

"Maybe you should talk to them," Chris suggested, feeling tired again suddenly. "After all of this commotion with Wesker and the base sinking, I'm not sure they'd even listen to me." He added immediately, "We need to be as quiet as possible right now, though. Dispense with pleasantries."

“I'll try.” Leon stood up straight again and patted Chris's arm. “Don't worry. We'll figure this out.” Giving Chris a reassuring smile, the blond was on his way back to the group.

Piers had been standing and watching them, but turned away when he saw Leon heading his direction. He looked sick. His face was pale and his eyes were heavy. Hopefully Wesker was already at work on the treatment.

Didn't he say something about strapping Piers down?

Chris turned and got his first good look at the sniper since their conversation inside the ice-cream truck. 

"Piers..." He stepped after Piers.

“Yes captain?” The short brunette immediately turned to him, eyes curious. “Is e-everything okay?” He took a sharp breath, trying very hard to make it look like it wasn't hard to. Piers stared up at him. The skin around his eye looked like it had been painted on it was so dark. He cocked his head. “You two look worried.”

Chris looked down and nodded a little. 

Placing a hand on Piers' shoulder, he said gently, "I think we'd better take those precautions we talked about earlier. You're not what we're concerned about, but I don't want you in the thick of it if things get bad."

“Precautions?” He asked slowly but then frowned sadly. “No, n-no, Captain. I'm fine. I feel normal,” Piers reassured him, placing a hand over Chris's. “Please. I'll tell you if I f-feel sick or anything. I'm fine,” he added with a hopeful nod.

“No, he's not,” a calm voice interrupted. Wesker had been lingering nearby, but moved up behind Piers ominously now. “You need to be secured.”

“Secured?” Piers glared up at him and growled. “Don't touch me.”

An eyebrow perked behind Wesker's sunglasses. 

“Don't make me.”

"Willingly restrained," Chris said firmly, looking at Wesker. "And Wesker doesn't have to be the one to do it, either, but you did agree to it before." He looked at Piers a bit sadly. "...I'm not asking you to do this to keep others safe from you, Piers. If you go dashing off like you did in the base, and anybody out on the floor with a weapon sees you, YOU'LL be in danger."

“Jake!” Wesker yelled back towards the door.

Piers jumped at the sound of Wesker's voice so close behind him. The blond didn't exactly use his son's name that often – and he definitely didn't yell much. Piers scooted closer to Chris, getting out of arm's reach of the towering blond.

Chris glanced at him, disoriented for a second by a vague memory of Piers being a lot smaller and younger, and hugging him. Definitely wouldn't help the situation to give in to that random impulse. 

Jake came dashing around the corner, his brows pinched in some mix between annoyance and concern. 

"Yeah, what? Keep a lid on it, we've got trouble outside!" He told his father, quietly but none too gently. 

Chris glanced up at the roof. Right. The Lickers.

“They aren't here yet, you fool,” Wesker snapped back. He grabbed Piers roughly by the arm and shoved him at Jake. “Strap him down.”

The redhead caught him with both arms around his waist like it was a perfectly normal reflex. He turned, moving Piers a bit further away from Wesker without letting go of him, and scowled at the blond. 

"Why? You gonna experiment on him again?"

"It's voluntary," Chris assured Jake, holding up a hand. "It's just a precaution until he's treated again. Please."

Jake looked down at Piers for confirmation.

The small brunette looked very upset but nodded. 

“Yes.”

Wesker nodded. 

“I'll continue work on the treatment, but we also need to secure the mall. I'll find a suitable place to keep Piers – he should be separate from the survivors.”

Jake loosened up his grip on Piers, but still stood very close beside him. 

"Better plan on me and Sherry being wherever he is."

Chris looked at Piers' expression and nodded. 

"That's fine." He got the feeling Piers wouldn't be comfortable tied up with Wesker around. For some reason he seemed to trust Jake, though. 

“Fine,” Wesker agreed, crossing his arms. Without further comment, he walked off into the mall. Piers watched him go, eyebrows pinched together.

Leon passed by them with an armload of boards. 

“Come on guys – we only have 48 hours. Pow wow later.” 

"I'll help, but Jake's assigned to Piers right now," Chris told him. He turned back to Piers and sighed. "You two better go figure out what room Wesker's decided on." 

“Yes sir,” Piers said quietly, turning and starting after Wesker. “Please be careful, captain.” At least he seemed resigned. 

"I will," Chris called after him. Jake frowned and stepped quickly after Piers, keeping close to his side still. 

It wasn't ideal, but at least Chris had some reassurance that Piers would be well-guarded with Jake around. He took a deep breath and started after Leon. There were fortifications to make.  


* * *

  
Rebecca looked around the crowded floor of the mall, watching people hurry left and right with boards and other supplies. 

"We picked a great time to show up," she told Billy dubiously.

“Yeah,” the dark haired man beside her agreed. “Maybe we should come back later.”

"We're safer in here than out there," the brunette said hastily, shaking her head. "And Chris is a survivor, like us — he's been in this B.O.W. game since before Raccoon City." She looked around for some sign of anybody familiar. Preferably somebody wearing a gun belt, because they seemed to be the ones in charge here.

There were several people with guns in their arms, but the ones that really stood out were the two women down the left side of the room, chatting happily – each with a pistol strapped to their thigh. The short blond one was wearing a cute pink sweatshirt and baby blue jeans with a heart patch on the knee. She had what looked like a stun rod on her back.

The other woman was tall and lean, with dark auburn hair and a bright red cropped jacket on over a long sleeved black shirt and cut off denim shorts. Strapped to her knee high boots was a large hunting knife. It looked a lot like the one Chris had.

“I like him. He knows what he's doing,” Billy said, scanning the crowd too. 

Patting his arm to get his attention, the petite woman pointed over at the two ladies across the room. 

"Let's try talking to them." She started that way without waiting for a reply. 

The cutesy clothing made the blond look even younger than she probably was. Rebecca had to wonder if she was a teen who was allowed to use a gun, or just a young-looking adult.

Billy fell in behind her, scaring a path through the bustling crowd.

“...Which was just so cute.” The blond laughed, opening a bag of what looked like blankets. “He's really sweet – he just hides it.”

“Well, it's good that you have someone like him around,” the auburn haired lady replied, leaning on a stack of boxes. “Being single in the apocalypse is hard.”

"Excuse me..." Rebecca came to a stop in front of them, looking from one to the other. She studied the blond's face for a moment longer, though. "Could you tell me which woman here is Captain Wesker's daughter-in-law?"

They both went silent, mouths dropping into 'o' shapes. Then they looked at each other with wide eyes and laughed.

“What?” The taller one sputtered. 

“Oh god,” the blond finally managed, clasping a hand over her mouth and giggling. 

Uncertainly, Rebecca glanced between them again, adjusting her grip on the strap of the medical bag slung over her shoulder. 

"Sorry, I guess I should've at least introduced myself first." She stuck out a small hand. "Rebecca Chambers. Captain Wesker asked me to check on his daughter-in-law and her baby — I just need you to point me in the right direction, okay?" 

“I'm sorry! I'm not trying to be rude...that's just a really scary thought,” the blond said, taking Rebecca's hand politely. “I'm his – I'm...Well. I'm Sherry Birkin.”

The other woman joined them with a charmingly warm smile. 

“And I'm Claire – did you just say 'captain' Wesker? Do you work for him or something?”

Glancing at her while still shaking Sherry's hand, Rebecca nodded. 

"I was on the STARS Bravo Team." She straightened up and turned back to Sherry seriously. "He seemed pretty concerned about you. Anything wrong?"

“Wesker?” Sherry asked in confusion, glancing up at Billy. She raised her eyebrows but looked back to Rebecca. “Do you mean Jake?”

"It was definitely Captain Wesker talking to me. Jake's his son, right?" Rebecca smiled. "I never imagined him having any kids...or a girlfriend." 

“Um. Me either,” Sherry mumbled. She still seemed confused. “Nothing's wrong with me. I mean, I'm pregnant – but it's not a problem. Did he say it was?”

"I got the impression he cared what happened to you and the baby," Rebecca said, shrugging. "He saw my medic bag and asked me to come here, and the reason was that his daughter-in-law is pregnant. Have you seen any doctor since?"

The blond woman shook her head. 

“No – but can we do this later? We need to get this area blocked off as soon as possible.”

Remembering the fact that they were standing in the middle of a bustling room of people barricading windows and doors, Rebecca gave a sheepish little laugh and stepped back. 

"Right. Sorry about that, I guess I was just set on finding you. Listen, I don't mean to be nosy, but how many months are you along? You might not want to lift anything too heavy."

"Hey, super girl!" She jumped at the sudden low male voice right her, and glanced at see the redheaded guy and the little sniper with the scarf from the Jeep. Whoa. Why hadn't she noticed how much the tall guy looked liked Captain Wesker before? 

“Jake!” Sherry had knelt to get an armload of blankets while Rebecca was talking and shoved them into Billy's arms on her way to hug the redheaded man. She smiled over at the short man and waved. “Hey Piers. You okay?”

The brunette nodded unhappily. 

Rebecca noticed that the redhead hugged Sherry tightly with one arm, but kept his other hand on Piers' shoulder. It wasn't a controlling grip — maybe a bit protective? 

To the two shorter people in front of him, Jake said grimly, "Got orders from Redfield for you two to come with me. Wesker's got a secure room we're supposed to stay in."

He didn't call Wesker 'dad' or anything of the sort? Odd.

“And you bring Piers to the place with all of the survivors,” a voice hissed from somewhere behind Jake. Piers was pulled out of his reach by Wesker, who led him back through the room as quickly as possible. The small brunette went willingly. Where people had moved to let Billy through – they ran from Wesker.

“Hey!” Sherry yelled, hurrying after them. She turned briefly back to Rebecca as she walked. “I'm sorry – we'll meet up later!”

Jake growled something under his breath and dashed off in the same direction. Rebecca remembered abruptly that Piers had seemed to be having some kind of trouble in the Jeep. She really hadn't paid much attention — she'd been too busy talking to Chris again for the first time in years. 

"That's fine! I'll find you," she called after Sherry, waving and smiling in a bemused way. Seeing Jake and Wesker near each other really made it obvious that they were related, but neither seemed very happy about it. This was going to be an interesting assignment.

By the time Jake caught up to them, Wesker had half thrown Piers onto a pile of blankets – which were on top of stacked iron roofing struts. That couldn't be comfortable. Sherry lingered nearby, arms crossed and eyebrows low.

“Lay back,” Wesker told Piers, pushing the smaller man back onto the blankets by his shoulder and tapping the tip of a long needle in his hand. 

Piers stared up at him – expression a mix of fear and sadness. 

“Is that the treatment – how'd you make it so fast?” He asked quickly.

“It is not the treatment. It's a suppressant. I thought it would be useful to hold your symptoms at bay while I work.”

“Why didn't you use that before?” Piers protested as Wesker took his arm.

“I retrieved them from my lab. Now hold still.”

"Hey!" Jake barely skidded to a stop in time to avoid crashing into the makeshift bed, and promptly grabbed Wesker's arm to keep the needle away from Piers'. "What the hell's your problem?" Between the very dubious-looking "bed", Wesker's tendency to shove Piers around and the disheveled state of his clothes, the scene looked pretty questionable. 

Sherry was at his side in an instant. 

“It's okay Jake!” She placed a small hand on his back. “He's helping.”

Despite her words, Piers looked relieved to see Jake, and sat up on the bed again.

“Let go of my hand. Now,” Wesker said calmly, looking over at Jake through his shades. The red of his eyes was barely visible through the lenses but Jake could feel his father's stern glare strongly.

That pretty much guaranteed he got glared at right back. Jake did let go of him, though — and moved to help Piers sit up instead. 

"He's doing FINE — he doesn't need that," he said, looking at the syringe. "We're only even strappin' him down as a precaution."

“Strapping him down?” Sherry asked, perching on the bed to stay near Jake.

“Yes,” Wesker said, pulling Piers closer away from Jake again. “However, if you don't want him to be snapping at your fingers and screaming in pain, he needs the suppressant.”

"He's not gonna bite me! Last time he thought he would, I talked him down," Jake countered, keeping a hand on Piers' back even when he was pulled away. He kept a close eye on what Wesker was doing. "Tell him, Piers."

“I-I think the suppressant is a good idea,” Piers admitted, looking back at Jake and Sherry. “Just to be safe.” His eyes met Jake's and he looked away.

More gently than before, Wesker took the brunette's arm and pressed the needle into the skin. Piers flinched, sliding a hand behind him to hold Jake's. He let go quickly, mumbling an apology. 

“You'll feel light headed,” the tall blond said. He got up and tucked the needle into a flat box on a nearby card table. “Don't move around or you may pass out.”

Jake placed hands on both of Piers' shoulders like the passing out might happen right that moment. 

"You need to lay down now anyway," he said, glancing down at the "bed". Had Wesker actually brought some restraints along? The steel struts had pretty good sized gaps in them for tying something to, but they sure didn't look comfortable to lay on, even with blankets on top.

Reluctantly, Piers laid down and sighed.

Wesker returned from the card table with several scary looking black straps. They were made out of some kind of woven metal with a padded lining inside. Jake had to wonder where his father had gotten them. They looked military grade for interrogation rooms. He silently handed them off to Jake and doubled back to his table.

Piers eyed the straps with a frown. 

“Do I need those? Isn't the suppressant supposed to keep me from changing?”

“It may not even work – so yes,” Wesker said without turning around. He was poking at a tablet he had apparently brought with him from the lab.

Jake examined the straps for a long moment, scowling. All of that insistence to use the suppressant, and Wesker didn't even know if it worked. That sounded suspiciously like Piers was his test subject. 

He glanced at Piers and then turned to fasten the ends of the straps to the metal struts. If not for the fact that they were going to be locked in here together when the Lickers showed up, he wouldn't have insisted that Sherry be in this same room. The two of them had had their share of crappy experiments back in China.

Sherry was still perched on the 'bed' and looking none too happy about it herself. She scooted a little closer and took Piers' hand, patting it gently. 

“Do you want a blanket?”

Piers shook his head. 

“No, but thank you.”

Jake got up and moved to fasten the strap on the other side of the "bed" without comment. He promised himself Piers wasn't going to left alone for even a moment while he was tied up like this — especially not with Wesker around. 

Piers nervously watched him finishing tying the straps off – a hand still firmly in Sherry's. He looked exhausted. Dark lines had appeared under his eyes. Even his jawline seemed more pronounced then before.

Jake's girlfriend squeezed Piers' hand to get his attention and smiled softly. 

“You could always take a nap.” She yawned cutely, stretching her free arm over her head. “I could use one myself – mind if I join you?” The small blond's smile told Jake that it was an innocent comment, but the thought of them cuddled up together was...not threatening in the least, actually.

“Um...” Piers looked to Jake too, blushing. “The bed's kind of hard. That cot's probably a better idea.” He pointed to a cot in the corner of the room piled high with plush blankets. They were all in bright colors with polka dots and other cutesy patterns — a really, really weird choice for Wesker's room.

Sherry pouted and glanced at the cot. 

“Aww. Fine.”

Jake caught Wesker raising his eyebrow in the background, wisely deciding not to comment.

"I'll stay over here with him," Jake assured Sherry, picking up one of Piers' hands and moving to fasten his wrist into the nearest strap. 

He didn't want to say it aloud, but if the suppressant didn't work, Sherry wasn't immune to any bites or scratches. He wasn't too worried about himself. 

Piers settled back on to the bed again. 

“Come, on Jake. He'll freeze to death on this thing.” She slapped the bed, but it just made a thump sound. “Are you sure you don't want a blanket?” Sherry asked him again, looking upset about the whole situation.

Guiltily, the brunette man nodded. Sherry happily let go of his hand and went to get a blanket. She paused at the pile, trying to decide on a color mix that didn't have pink in it.

Frowning again, Jake stepped back around to secure Piers' other wrist in its strap. 

"I'd move him to the cot, Sherry, but if he really does flip out then he'd probably tear it in half." He paused and met the sniper's eyes, a bit guilty to so much as admit that he still thought Piers losing control was a possibility. He was pretty sure the guy had a stronger will than Wesker gave him credit for, but in a tight enclosed room they couldn't be too careful about having Sherry and Piers locked in together.

Piers stared back up at him sadly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't. Sherry returned with a blanket and tucked it in around him. 

“No, this'll work. And there's more if you shred it,” she added quietly to Piers, patting his chest. “Just close your eyes and it'll be over before you know it.” 

“Thanks Sherry,” The small man said, closing his eyes. He turned his face away from them.

Wesker headed past them and out of the door.

Jake frowned after him. Turning back to Piers, he sat back and pulled off his jacket, then rolled it up and lifted the brunette's head gently to tuck it underneath as a pillow for him. 

"This sucks. If he wasn't helping you, I would've punched him in the teeth by now." 

“Please don't.” Piers sighed, looking up at Jake with tired gray eyes. “I'm not sure why he's even helping me in the first place. If I was him, I'd grab Chris and go. The rest of us could straggle on our own,” he added glumly, twisting his wrists in the straps. “I'm not even sure why he stopped me-” Piers cut himself off and closed his eyes again. “He's helping right now – let's leave it at that and not ruin it.”

"Ya just answered your own question," Jake said flatly. "It's ALL about Redfield. If he just grabbed the guy and left all of his friends to die, Redfield would hate his guts." He glanced at Sherry and sighed a little, exasperated. "And for some stupid reason, Redfield doesn't hate him anymore right now. I don't get it."

Both Sherry and Piers looked at him.

“I could e-explain it, if you want,” Sherry said shyly, inching her way back to Piers' side. 

Jake took a seat on the edge of Piers' "bed", leaning back on his palms. 

"Enlighten me," he said drolly. "Redfield used to be pretty clear on how Wesker had to die, back when he thought he was still dead."

Sherry took Jake sitting down as an okay for her to sit next to Piers too. She did so happily, sliding under the covers. 

“So. When they're together, what do you see?”

“Don't,” Piers told her, cringing. “Come on. He's not stupid.”

"I see Redfield get all indecisive and let my psycho DAD call the shots," Jake grumbled, scowling. He'd never seen Chris and Wesker in the same room together until just a day or two ago. "Redfield's been saying Wesker was a psychopath the entire time I've known him, but he's sure changed his tune."

“Sex changes things. Now they are willing to work things out.” Sherry shrugged, rolling onto her side to wrap herself in the blanket better. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. 

“Ugh.” Piers cringed and closed his eyes again.

"Sex — are you kiddin' me?!" Jake turned to stare at her incredulously. "Look, I get it, they're got some serious fixation issues, but I don't think any of THAT'S going on!" He crossed his arms and scowled, his face heating up. 

Sherry didn't really know about it, but her explanation kind of explained why Chris had managed to get captured by Wesker and show back up at the base later without even needing to escape. Ugh, indeed.

“How could you NOT know?” Sherry laughed, sitting up on her knees. “Come on, Jake. Wesker's protective of him and takes care of him constantly. It's just like you and me. We watch out for each other.”

Behind Sherry, Piers' eyes got wide for a second and he turned his face away again.

"Hey, 'protective' doesn't automatically equal 'doin' it'," Jake grumbled, blushing a bit more. Without looking at Sherry, he reached an arm around her waist and pulled her over for a hug. "I seem to recall us saving each other's lives SEVERAL times before any of that."

“Well, sure,” she giggled, leaning up and kissing his cheek.

“Ahem.” 

Sherry turned to look at Piers.

“I don't want to be rude, but please don't make out. It'd be really awkward if I can't leave.” The brunette blushed deeply and tugged on the straps pointedly.

“Oh, sorry.” Sherry cringed and settled back down into the covers. She took Jake's hand and smiled to herself.

The redhead squeezed her hand and looked away a bit guiltily. He couldn't decide if he felt bad for cuddling Sherry in front of Piers, or for the uncomfortable realization that Sherry's comments about how to tell people were sleeping with each other applied to the little sniper just as well as they did to his girlfriend.

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled. "How're you feeling? Think that shot did anything?" 

He glanced back at Piers.

The brunette's head was firmly turned away from them still. 

“Nothing yet,” he mumbled.

Jake fidgeted a little, then got up and walked over to the door and peeked out, frowning. This whole conversation was pretty uncomfortable. He wondered if Wesker had left to go check on Chris.

“So...” Sherry said sweetly, cuddling up to Piers' side. “Where'd you get the scarf? It looks just like the one you used to wear.”

Piers rolled his head over and looked at her finally. 

“I-I uh...”

Jake's girlfriend frowned. 

“It's okay if it's a secret. You don't have to tell me. I was just curious.”

Jake looked back at them, glancing at Sherry and then to the scarf unhappily. He couldn't admit to giving the scarf to Piers now, not after the conversation with Sherry about taking care of your lover all the time. 

Did that really apply, though? Sure, he thought Piers was attractive...which wasn't something that he'd ever caught himself thinking about another guy before. And he took care of Piers an awful lot. But nobody else was doing so, and he seemed so damn vulnerable. And small. And...something. 

"We found it at the clothes store," he said finally, exchanging a glance with Piers. "Y'know, PC Jenny's."

“Oh.” Sherry looked between them. “Then what was the secret?”

Piers tried to sit up but couldn't. 

“We were just looking for blankets and clothes – separately. Clothes and blankets. I-I mean, I found the clothes and Jake found the b-blankets.”

“Okay,” the blond woman said slowly.

Jake stepped back over and stood beside the bed, crossing his arms. Screw it — with how awkward Piers was behaving, Sherry would assume much more than what was actually going on. 

"Look, I gave him the scarf, Sherry. He looked cold." He glanced down at Piers.

She stared up at him with a raised eyebrow and blinked a few times. 

“Okay.” Sherry nodded once. “Okay.” She tucked the blanket in around Piers and pursed her lips in thought.

Piers watched her with worried pale eyes, cheeks flushing.

Jake looked away toward the door. Great, just great. Of all the times to start an awkward, uncomfortable conversation, they had to pick the start of a 48-hour sleepover locked in the same tiny room.

“You know, before they lock the doors – I better grab some snacks.” Sherry suddenly said, hopping up off of the bed. “You know...baby cravings.” She laughed nervously and zipped out the door as fast as she could.

Piers stared after her in horror.


	14. Umbrella

Jake let her leave, watching after her for a moment. Then he turned around to face Piers, frowning. 

"Well that was fun."

“What?” Piers asked loudly, looking up at him in confusion.

Jake turned and sat on the edge of the "bed", putting his head in his hands. 

"C'mon, you don't see how that sounded a little weird to her?" He asked grumpily. "You might not realize this, but I don't take care of just anybody — or protect them from other people, or...give them presents."

“I'm so sorry,” Piers said sincerely, chest heaving with a sigh. “This is so stupid.” The small brunette yanked on his straps again in frustration. 

Jake reached over and grabbed the nearest of his wrists to stop it. 

"Don't." He sighed and looked over at Piers unhappily. "How I behave ain't exactly YOUR fault, is it?"

“It's not you.” Piers groaned, trying to jerk the hand Jake held free. He stopped and sighed again, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sherry's great. I really like her.”

"I love her," Jake said, very seriously. His brows furrowed, and he looked down at Piers' hand held by his own gloved one. "How's it not me?"

“I don't want to do this.” Piers gritted his teeth, writhing against the shackles. “We're gonna be stuck – all of us – in this tiny room!” He yanked on the straps again – this time causing them to scrape against the metal.

"Yeah, no shit," Jake snapped, scowling at him. He turned and grabbed Piers' other wrist to hold it still as well. "Cut it out! You're gonna hurt yourself."

“Get away from me – don't touch me!” Piers snarled, eyes glinting. There was a glow in the gray that wasn't there before. 

Jake could feel that familiar tingle from Piers' right hand, the same as before. He didn't let go, though, instead leaning forward until they were very close and locking eyes with Piers. 

"I'm not goin' anywhere," he said intently. "You can zap me if you want. I won't leave you alone when you're like this."

“I'm not g-going to zap you,” Piers managed, tears blurring his eyes. “I'm sorry-”

Hands suddenly grabbed under Jake's arms and lifted him straight up, yanking Piers' arms out of his grasp. He was dropped off to the side on the floor in a split second – luckily on to the carpet. Wesker cocked his head and looked down at him curiously. 

“What are you doing?”

Jake sat up on both hands and glared at him, trying to disguise his alarm — and concern. Piers looked like he was going to cry. Had Jake scared him? He didn't want that, he wasn't trying to do that. 

"He was yanking on the straps — didn't want him to hurt himself," he told Wesker shortly, hopping back to his feet. He scowled and pointed a finger at the blond. "If you grab me again we're gonna have a problem staying in the same room." 

“Then don't touch him again,” the blond said just as shortly, turning and checking on the straps. Piers had his eyes shut and his face turned away like before. He really was crying. To Jake's amazement, Wesker gave the captured soldier a gentle pat on the shoulder. He turned back to his son and looked down his nose at him.

Silently.

The redhead crossed his arms. 

"Wow, you're a total asshole to him any other time but suddenly now you're Mr. Nice Guy?" His gaze moved from Wesker to Piers, and his brows furrowed sadly. "...I won't touch him, but I'm not leaving."

He stepped back over near the door and leaned against the wall there, keeping an eye on Wesker from the short distance that afforded. He wanted to talk to Piers, but he doubted the blond would let that happen.

Sherry returned shortly – small arms carrying a box of treats. 

“I found a vending machine and it just popped right open with a little kick.” She paused at the door to kiss Jake's cheek and then went to Piers' bed to sit her box down. Noticing Piers cringing away from her, she looked up at Jake in alarm – wide blue eyes glancing pointedly to Wesker.

Jake made a frustrated little growl and looked away toward the door, crossing his arms tighter. How the hell was he supposed to explain this without it sounding horrible?

Then again, if Wesker decided to describe how HE saw it...

The redhead stepped reluctantly back over beside the bed, trying not to look at Piers — or meet Sherry's eyes. 

"Don't worry about it. He'll be okay," he said quietly. 

The blond man in the corner seemed to have no interest in sharing what his thoughts were at that moment. If things weren't awkward before, they were awkward now. Jake could only imagine how things would be when Chris finally joined them.

Sherry took his hand unhappily, sitting down next to Piers. She reached a small hand out and placed it on Piers' side.

Jake looked at her finally, and then at the brunette. It was bad enough having this conversation in front of Wesker — he really didn't want to have it in front of Chris as well. Or for the man to see Piers so upset, either. 

"Piers, you're gonna be okay. I know this sucks, but it's not forever," he said quietly, turning and sitting down on the floor beside the makeshift bed. He knew Piers wasn't crying because of his condition or because of being strapped down, and he knew that Piers knew that wasn't what he was talking about. Hopefully.

“Maybe it would be best if you and Sherry moved to the other safe house,” Wesker said calmly from across the room. He was tinkering with his tablet once more.

“We're not leaving him with you,” Sherry replied coldly, squeezing Jake's hand.

“I'm not the problem.”

“N-no. I am,” Piers cut in, rolling his head over to look at Jake and Sherry. “I think Wesker's right. Y-you guys should go somewhere without me.”

Jake promptly sat back up again, perching on the edge of the bed. He started to reach toward Piers and stopped himself, placing his hand on the bed beside the brunette's hand instead of on it. 

"Not gonna happen. I promised I wasn't goin' anywhere, and I meant it," he said seriously. Looking Piers in the eyes again, he added much more quietly, "You're not the problem. Really."

Piers blinked to clear the tears from his eyes and shook his head. Letting go of Jake's hand, Sherry crawled up on the bed and laid down next to Piers – hugging him. 

“Maybe some food will help – I got you a blueberry muffin.” She smiled at him. “You said you like blueberries, right?”

Piers nodded silently.

The little blond nodded to the box. 

“Jake, could you grab it?”

A bit relieved that Sherry had hugged Piers since he couldn’t, Jake quickly nodded and turned to look through the box of snacks the blond had brought with her. He still couldn't tell if he had made Piers cry or their conversation had; it bothered him. 

"Here we go," he said absently, turning back to the bed with a small blueberry muffin in hand. It was one of those individually wrapped ones — good thing, or it wouldn't have been edible by now. He unwrapped it carefully, looking at that instead of Sherry or Piers.

Wesker turned to watch them, one arm leaned casually on the back of his chair. The tablet blinked behind him. With a thoughtful frown, he returned to his work.

Realizing that Sherry didn't look like she was going to let go of Piers and sit up anytime soon, Jake looked from them to the muffin and back again. Finally, a bit sheepishly, he pulled off a small piece of the cake and leaned one elbow on the bed, reaching over to hold it close enough to Piers to eat if he wanted. 

This was so awkward. Even without their conversation a few minutes ago, Jake was sure it would still be. If he was the one strapped down he'd be complaining constantly to hide how embarrassing it was, but Piers seemed too low to even disguise it. Great, he felt guilty all over again.

Piers noticed the bit of muffin Jake was offering him and carefully took it. At least with all the awkwardness, it'd be easy to be quiet.

Wesker got up from his chair and paced the room, leaning out the door briefly. He paced back to his desk again, only to make a u-turn back toward the door.

Jake did his best to ignore his father's pacing behind him, and focused on hand-feeding Piers bits of muffin in the least-awkward way possible. Unfortunately there was no way to do it without at least a little awkwardness, but at least Sherry was there hugging him so it didn't seem like weird one-on-one attention.

That seemed like a good idea. He placed the muffin on the edge of the bed and offered each of them a piece this time. 

It seemed like Piers was feeling better, so Sherry sat up and took the bit herself. She popped it into her mouth and smiled at Jake. 

“There are some peanut butter cups in there, too.” She slid off the bed to rummage in the box with both arms. It had looked like she really had cleaned out the entire vending machine.

Piers watched her go, eyebrows pinching together sadly.

"I can find 'em, you should relax," Jake said, patting her shoulders. Leaning close to her face, he kissed her cheek and whispered, "Think you were helpin' keep him warm." He wouldn't have minded being the one to lay down with Piers, except he was pretty sure that Piers would mind. And Wesker, not that he gave a damn what bothered him. 

Speaking of Wesker, he was busy wearing a long trail in the carpet. He leaned his head out of the door again and frowned. Running a hand through his hair, he turned to the three of them. 

“I'm going to go find Chris.” He lowered his chin. “Keep your hands to yourselves.” He stepped out of the door.

Trying not to cringe at how that comment must have sounded to Sherry, Jake sat back up to make sure the blond really was leaving and not just lurking outside the doorway. When he saw Wesker walking off into the mall, he turned back to the bed and looked at Piers unhappily.

"Listen, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm sorry."

“I'm sorry, Sherry,” Piers said lowly, tears already escaping down his face again.

Sherry sat back on the bed and patted Piers' arm. She looked to Jake. 

“What do you mean you snapped at him?”

Jake shrugged, his shoulders slumping defeatedly. What could he say? He didn't want to lie, but depending on how he replied she could be really hurt. 

That wasn't something he could stand — pretty much what he spent his time trying to prevent, actually. The redhead reached over and placed a hand very gently onto Piers' hair. 

"He started yankin' on the straps and I yelled at him and that's why he was crying when you got back," he told Sherry heavily. Vague. Vague was good. "And I held him down so he wouldn't hurt himself, but it was a pretty jerk move, so I'm sorry." He met Piers eyes again. "Really, I'm sorry."

“It's okay,” Piers said softly, looking up at him with tearful gray eyes. He closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths. “This whole week has been a shit fest.” 

“Jeez, you two,” Sherry shook her head. “I was really worried.” She patted the bed. “Come up here, Jake.”

Sherry snuggled up next to Piers again, grabbing Jake's hand. “It's only 48 hours, guys. We'll be fine. Wesker'll get that treatment done – once he stops pacing – and we'll all be 100%.” She nodded as if to reassure herself of her words. Laying her head on Piers' shoulder, she closed her eyes. Falling asleep next to him certainly wasn't the best idea, but he didn't seem to like to be left alone.

Jake reached over and rubbed her back gently. 

"You're right. Sorry, I'll try not to be so snappy." Tentatively, he patted Piers' shoulder as well — the one Sherry wasn't resting on. "I hate to say this, but you can't fall asleep there," he added, sighing.

“Wha?” She sat back up, eyes forced open again. “What? Who?”

Jake had to smile at the sleepy face she was making. Adorable. 

Patting her shoulders, he explained, "You should sleep on the cot over there. It's just a precaution, but you can't risk getting bitten. Piers wouldn't want you in danger either, right?" He glanced at the brunette.

Piers just stared at him for a long moment. 

“No. Jake's right.” He looked at Sherry longingly. “You guys better sleep over there.”

Jake stood and scooped Sherry up from the bed, realizing she was already dozing off again and wasn't going to reply. Carrying her over to the cot, he tucked the blond into the soft blankets there gently and kissed her cheek. 

Then he headed back over to Piers, looking a bit unsure of himself. 

Piers looked up at him and then away quickly. 

Sighing, Jake sat down on the edge of the bed again. 

"Piers."

The brunette cringed.

Jake turned to face him, feeling his brows furrow sadly. 

"Were you...did you cry earlier because I was hurting you?" He really hadn't been trying to. Pretty much exactly the opposite, actually.

Piers laughed suddenly. 

“No. No, I was just being stupid.” He sighed and looked at Jake again. “You should get some rest too. I don't think any of us will when the Lickers get here,” he said softly, glancing over at Sherry. She had already fallen asleep.

The redhead studied his expression seriously. 

"Would it be okay if I stay over here with you?" Asking if it would be weird or awkward was pointless — of course it would. But he didn't feel right leaving Piers alone, even just across the room from him. And he still felt pretty terrible about their “fight.”

“What?” Piers asked, surprised. He swallowed nervously and thought it over.

Jake looked down and shrugged slightly, brows still lowered in an uneasy way. 

"I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, but you're gonna get really cold sleeping on a hunk of metal. And I'm immune, so you don't have to worry you might bite me." And he'd promised Piers he wouldn't leave him alone.

“Wesker'll be mad,” Piers said at last, twisting his head to try and see the door. “But o-okay.” The small brunette man looked anywhere but at Jake.

"I don't care what he thinks," Jake said matter-of-factly, slipping under the blankets and laying down beside the brunette. He sighed and scooted right up against Piers, putting an arm around his waist.

He could hear the smaller man's heart beating. It was fast. Piers looked at him shyly over his scarf, cheeks rosy. 

“Thank you.”

Jake sighed and closed his eyes, telling himself that staring this close up would be way too obvious. 

“Don't mention it.”  


* * *

  
“...Stupid to be mad at you – you were trying to help.” Chris heard Wesker's voice before it dawned on him where he was. He was standing in the middle of a nice, familiar living room – cup of hot coffee in hand. Directly in front of him, nestled on the couch with the tiny version of Piers, was Wesker. He was looking up at Chris with stunning blue eyes. The toddler was still bandaged thoroughly, small fist tucked under his chin cutely. His other arm was in a cast and sling. “I can't imagine how it felt to be there.”

Chris blinked at him and then glanced around quickly, disoriented. What...how had he gotten here? It was the dream world, but he didn't remember going to sleep. Last thing he knew, he had been helping Leon board up a wall. Was he having the dreams while awake now? Was he just sitting there zoning out in real life?

Realizing that he probably looked like he was zoning out to Wesker, he took a deep breath and looked down at his coffee. 

"Uh. I-I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"

“Alright. Fine,” the blond said, nodding his head. “Stay mad if you like, but I'm sorry. I was a fool to yell at you – especially when he's yours.” Wesker trailed a fingertip on little Piers' nose. “I wish he was mine.” His expression grew soft and sad. He shifted the toddler to hug him tightly.

Chris was surprised at how glad he was to actually see the two of them in a situation without any tears involved. He stepped over and sat his coffee aside on the coffee table, moving to sit beside his husband. 

"You're mine, and that makes him ours," he reasoned, looking at little Piers thoughtfully. He hadn't actually stopped to wonder HOW they had two young children. He'd assumed adoption.

“I wish it was like that,” the blond said, petting Piers' hair. “But the only reason I can hold him is...is because he's drugged and in pain and delirious,” Wesker said painfully. His eyes looked hollow now – drained. “I don't know how to make him like me. He hates me.” He looked up at Chris suddenly. “I thought it was over when we all talked and hugged – but when you aren't around, he's terrified of me.” His shoulders slumped. “Just like before.”

Chris scooted closer and slipped an arm around the blond, sighing. 

"He's having nightmares, Al. It's not your fault." It felt very strange to call Wesker by anything but his surname — especially a nickname — but he thought it might be more comforting to use the nickname. 

A bit sheepishly, he added, "If it's any comfort, the you in my dreams is...he's changed for the better."

“He's not murdering people anymore?” Wesker asked, leaning against him. “Good for him.” He sighed and kept running his hand over their son's hair, much like petting a cat. The blond man paused, then spoke softly. “Is Piers there? Does he like me?”

Chris looked at little Piers and reached to place his hand over Wesker's. 

"Yeah, he is," he admitted. "We're not related, though, and he's...well, he's older. An adult."

“What?” Wesker looked at him curiously and then down to Piers. “I wish my dreams were that interesting.”

"Every time I go to sleep here, I dream I'm over there," Chris explained a bit sheepishly. He'd reversed the truth as he knew it — this was the dream, not that. 

He paused, growing solemn. "Piers is very sick, though. If not for you, he'd be dead."

Wesker smiled a little and kissed him gently. 

“Thank you.” From the sound of it, he didn't really believe Chris. Settling his head under the muscular man's chin, he sighed. 

Chris sighed, too, moving to hug an arm around him and Piers both. 

"...It's hard to see him suffering whether I'm here or there. I-I still can't talk to that you like I do with you." 

He figured that probably was because he knew the dreams weren't real, so he wasn't afraid to speak his mind...more or less. The dreams did seem to continue their "story" though, and the last thing he wanted was to get little Piers or Jake or this seemingly perfect version of Wesker hurt.

Again, Wesker smiled, but unlike before, his smile was playful. 

“Need love advice? You know, in case you dream about him again.” The man in his arms chuckled. 

Chris glanced quickly at him, a tiny little flush rising to his cheeks. 

"Well...I'd rather love you than fight with you anymore."

“Charmer.” Wesker grinned, kissing him again. Their kiss was interrupted by Piers.

“Eeeeww!” The toddler groaned, covering his face dramatically with his good arm.

Chris laughed and planted a kiss on top of the little boy's head as well. 

"Sorry, did we wake you up?" Laughing? He couldn't remember the last time he'd really laughed in real life. Why couldn't he laugh like this with the real Wesker?

The little boy wiped at his face sleepily. 

“Oww.” He frowned. “When will my arm be all better? It hurts.” Piers cringed, squeezing his eyes shut. Wesker hugged him closer.

“Guess what I heard?” He poked Piers' nose again. “Time passes faster if you eat blueberries.” Their son looked at him in awe, glancing to Chris for confirmation.

“Really?”

“Yes – and we just happen to have some in the fridge.” Wesker looked to Chris too, blue eyes twinkling. “Do you want some?”

Piers nodded quickly.

Chris looked at the two fondly, smiling and sitting up. It was just priceless to see Wesker acting so...well, sweet. And to see Piers playing right along. 

"I think we'd better eat a whole bunch so you feel better," he agreed, standing. 

Wesker looked genuinely happy as he carefully ferried Piers to the kitchen. He sat the toddler down on a chair. 

“I'll go get Jake-”

“No!” Piers said quickly, grabbing Wesker's wrist. “No, then he'll grow faster too! I wanna be taller!”

Wesker hid his smile and made his way to the kitchen door. 

“That wouldn't be fair.”

Amused, Chris turned and opened the fridge. What had he been worrying about again? The apocalypse was far away right now, and he wanted to enjoy that for as long as possible. 

Something nagged at him in the back of his mind, though. He was supposed to be doing something.

Piers watched Wesker go sadly and turned to Chris. 

“Quick! Gimme them!” He held out a tiny hand in his dad's direction. “I'll eat them before Jake gets here!”

The thumb drive. Maybe that was it. He needed to return it to Wesker.

Chris scooped a bowl of blueberries out of the larger bowl in the fridge, hoping the kid wouldn't see the latter. He headed over and put the bowl on the table, patting Piers' back. 

"You've got a good head start, don't worry. You know how hard it is to get Jake out of bed."

He wondered if that thumb drive was still in his coat pocket. He'd kind of wanted to make sure it still worked before showing it to Wesker again...didn't want to get his hopes up about saving the top secret files until he was sure they were actually saved. 

Wesker returned, plunking Jake down across from Piers. He placed a kiss on the toddler's head and headed for the coffee pot.

"Too early," the redhead groaned, rubbing at his eyes. He sat up and just managed to notice Piers before bursting into a large yawn as well. 

Chris smiled and patted the kid's back. 

"Forgot my coffee back there," he told Wesker, heading back into the living room. He did snag the cup from the coffee table...and then went to the coat rack by the front door, and felt in the pocket of his jacket for the thumb drive.

It was there. Safe and sound.

“Do you want some waffles?” Wesker called from the kitchen. Chris could see him just inside the door, rubbing his neck stiffly. Did he sleep on the couch? “I can make something else if you want.”

“Can we have waffles, dad?” Piers called out shyly.

Chris glanced back, closing his fingers around the thumb drive before pulling it out of the pocket. Wesker had said something about yelling at him, and now it occurred to Chris that if his husband had ended up on the couch...Chris was probably the one who refused to let him into the bedroom. 

Awkward.

"Waffles sound great," he called back, a bit sheepish. Having never been married before, he had no idea what to do with this situation. Al was talking to him again, at least. And he'd apologized. 

Returning his important files safe and sound would be a nice apology in return, Chris decided, cautiously crossing the room to be sure nobody saw him. With any luck, his husband and kids were preoccupied with waffles and blueberries.

“Chris?” Wesker called again, tilting his head to listen. “Waffles it is, then.”

Piers was busy shoveling blueberries into his mouth.

Jake had noticed the blueberries at some point and abruptly awakened to help devour the bowl of them. Really, neither of the boys would probably have any room for waffles if they ate that much beforehand.

Chris waited until he heard the sound of the mixer making waffle batter and then headed quietly toward the bedroom side of the house. He wasn't sure where a computer might be, but if Wesker used things like thumb drives then they must own one.

Just past the bedroom was an office – which he somehow had the feeling was there. It was richly decorated in dark woods and black leather – so it was probably Wesker's, not his. 

But one piece of the room didn't fit. It was a comfy-looking red loveseat along one wall. It looked well-loved and very plush, like he could just sink into it and forget all of his cares. That association was so very strong he felt like he should just sit down right then.

A silver laptop was left casually on its cushions like it had been forgotten, adorned on the back with a rainbow sticker. What in the hell...

Closing the door behind him carefully, the brunette stepped over and looked at the laptop a moment before picking it up. Taking a seat on the red cushions, he was pleased to find that the chair was even more comfortable than it appeared to be. Wow — he could fall asleep here.

There wasn't time for that, though. He flipped up the laptop screen carefully and pressed the power button, looking down at the thumb drive as the computer started up. 

"Hopefully you're dried out by now," he told the little device.

The screen lit up and immediately took him to the desktop. It had just been on standby. The background was a cute picture of two babies – one brunette and one ginger – sleeping side by side on the very couch he was sitting on.

Piers and Jake, he realized, leaning a little closer to look. Wow...they looked so tiny and innocent. He wondered if that was how the real Piers or Jake looked as a baby. 

He glanced down at the thumb drive and frowned, nodding to himself. Right — couldn't get distracted. Carefully, he plugged the drive into one of the computer's USB ports, then crossed his fingers that it still functioned. He didn't want to see his husband look so heavy-hearted anymore. He didn't want to fight.

The folder opened automatically, but it only had a text file labeled 'email.'

Chris sat back, wide-eyed. It worked! It still read the files. Seeing the title of the single text document, though, he frowned and clicked on it. That didn't look like a bunch of top secret information to him. Was everything important gone, or was this email somehow the important thing?

He remembered Al commenting about months of top secret research, though. How could months compile into one little text file?

A file that was an email.

The email was short and simple.

 _A. Wesker,_

_We have the go ahead. The donations are collected – proceed as quickly as possible. Accuracy is important, but speed is vital. I have the first one here now and have begun phase one. They might know._

_W. Birkin._

Chris read over the words several times, stunned. Bill — Birkin, William Birkin. Wesker had mentioned that he was a colleague, but the email didn't sound like regular work type stuff. 

'They might know.' Chris felt a little tingle go down his spine at that particular line. Who might know, and why were Wesker and Birkin hiding this project from them? This wasn't like him — not like the man Chris was married to, anyway. For the real Wesker, it sounded awfully like how he'd worked for a certain pharmaceutical company...

There was a soft knock on the door and then it pushed open. Wesker leaned in. 

“Why's the door closed?” He glanced back down the hall and then came inside. “The kids are watching TV.”

Chris looked up quickly from the file to his husband's face, startled. Heart thumping in his chest, he turned the laptop around to show Wesker what was on the screen. 

"What is this?"

The blond's face paled, but he gestured to it as casually as possible. 

“A work email. Did you find my thumb drive?”

Chris pulled the thumb drive out of the USB port and held it up for him to see, but didn't move to hand it over. Wesker's expression told him that this was something he wasn't supposed to ever see. 

"I wanted to make sure it still worked before I told you," he said unhappily. "Didn't want to get your hopes up."

“Just knowing where it is is a relief.” Wesker came close enough to make a grab at it.

Chris wrapped the drive in his fingers, moving his hand away to the side. He looked at the blond man with a mixture of hurt and resignation. 

"Is it Umbrella?" He asked quietly. "It is, isn't it."

Wesker sank down onto the couch beside him, quickly regaining his composure. His mouth straightened into a line. 

“Of course. I've been with them for years.” The blond man scooted closer, holding out his hand. “I need it back.”

He'd admitted it so easily that Chris had to wonder if Umbrella, even, was the same thing it had been in real life. He just couldn't take the risk that it was, though.

"How many years?" He asked uncertainly. Standing, he dropped the thumb drive on the chair where he'd been and moved to place the computer onto the desk. The email ought to have been right there onscreen still; he hadn't closed it.

Snatching the thumb drive, Wesker shoved it into his pocket. He moved to Chris's side. 

“Why does it matter?” Sliding his arms around the brunette's waist, he kissed his neck. “They aren't going to fire me over it – and I have it back, so it doesn't matter now...” His eyes finally found the screen, and he froze.

Chris wanted to say something, but he just stood there stiffly in his husband's arms, staring at the computer. This wasn't really happening, he reminded himself. It was just a dream, or nightmare. 

But what happened here continued every time he came back, and in poking around in the files, he might have just taken his perfect little dream life and shattered it on the floor. 

“Look,” Wesker said at last, leaning his chin on Chris's shoulder. “I don't want to fight anymore – so just ask me whatever it is you're worried about.”

"They might know," Chris said, quoting the email. He felt sick to his stomach, and sounded a little hoarse. Maybe Wesker wouldn't notice. "Who're you hiding things from?" 

He continued to look at the computer, careful not to try and look at Wesker. If he did, he was afraid he would lose it. Even if this WAS just a damned dream, Umbrella was still haunting him this many years later. His life had turned upside down that night in the mansion, and since then he hadn't really stopped tumbling — not really. And somehow he'd dragged Wesker along with him the entire way.

“Competitors,” Wesker said simply. “We're the leading company in most new medicines – we have to be careful who knows what.”

Chris pulled away from his arms, half-turning to look at him sadly. 

"Then why do you need to hide it from me?"


	15. Together

Crystal blue eyes met his gaze. He could almost hear the gears turning behind those scheming eyes. 

“You're not a virologist. You wouldn't understand some of the things we do – or any of them actually.” Wesker moved closer again, placing both hands on Chris's shoulders. “Please. Tell me why you're acting like this is a big deal? It's just an email.”

Chris looked away to one side, blinking as his view of door did its best to blur with tears. 

It was just a dream anyway, he told himself. It wasn't real. He shouldn't ruin it. 

"Forget about it," he said softly. "I-I'm sorry...I'm sorry I'm acting so strange, and sleeping all the time, and that I keep forgetting things." He brought a hand up to cover his face quickly, shaking his head. 

The blond gently took his hand and moved it off of his face, blue eyes staring deeply at him. 

“I wish I knew what to do to make you feel better.” Wesker stared down at him evenly. “I'd do anything for you – for Piers and Jake. You three are the most important thing in the world to me.” Wesker brought his husband's hand up and kissed it. “I love you.” The last three words were spoken so quietly, they were a whisper.

He slipped an arm around Chris's neck and the other pressed against the back of the shorter man's neck, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Chris relented and pressed against him, sliding his arms around the blond's waist. Wesker's hands felt warm, but he couldn't help shivering. Still, he leaned into the kiss. This was just the reminder he needed that this was all a dream — Wesker saying 'I love you' like that, and kissing him like this. 

It was a fantasy. He could make it a pleasant one, or he could destroy that, too. And there were already enough unpleasant things in his life. 

Wesker stepped away, pulling Chris after him toward the couch. He slid his gray sweater off over his head and laid back on the couch – beckoning for Chris to join him. 

Chris followed without any hesitation. This seemed so very real. Why couldn't this just be real...? He sat on the edge of the couch cushions and leaned down to press a kiss to Wesker's lips again, running a hand over his bare chest and shoulder. He didn't want to wake up. Maybe he could just stay here awhile.

“Chris,” Wesker breathed, pushing him back. He stared intently up at the brown eyed man. “Please say something.”

By now Chris's heart was thudding in his chest. He studied Wesker's face like he hadn't seen it before, taking note of the clear blue eyes, the fair skin and the blond hair that was no longer so neatly combed in place. Somehow, being a little tousled managed to make him look more perfect, not less. 

"I don't know what I should say," he admitted, running his thumb softly over the blond man's lips. He looked down at them longingly. "...I wish you would always be like this. With me." 

The real Wesker was nothing like this, was he? 

A sudden – and very loud – slap whipped across his face.

He was laying on his back, a crowd of feet gathered around him. Hunched over him like wide eyed gargoyles were Claire and Wesker. 

“Chris?” Wesker asked, squinting at him. “Please say something.” A gloved hand rested on Chris's jaw – icy against his skin.

“Should I hit him again?” Claire asked, looking over at the blond man beside her.

“Al...?” Chris turned his head to look at Wesker's hand, very disoriented. Going from laying on the couch with his husband to getting slapped in the face had taken only a split second. 

“Ooh. I think I broke him,” Claire said grimly, patting Chris's chest.

“Are you awake, Chris?” Wesker asked, tilting his head. “A board fell and hit you.”

“Good thing you have a hard head,” his sister said fondly, pushing Wesker's hand away. She grabbed Chris's arms and tried to pull him to a sitting position. 

Wesker looked disappointed, but didn't help.

"I-I think I can feel the dent," Chris joked, wincing as his arms were tugged on. Being much bigger and heavier than his sister, he didn't budge. "Claire...let Wesker help me."

With a grunt of frustration, Claire moved aside to let Wesker help. The blond man moved next to Chris's side and slipped an arm around his back, gently helping him sit up. He braced his other hand on the large man's chest in case he fell forward. 

“We don't have much time left, Chris. I need to get you to the safe house.”

“We're in the safe house,” Claire protested.

“No, Chris is staying with me in the lab.”

“With that Piers guy? No way! I don't want him anywhere near him.”

“Chris will be with me – I'll keep him safe.”

The auburn haired woman glared sharply at him, crossing her arms. 

“I don't believe you.”

“I don't care,” Wesker snapped, pulling one of Chris's arms up over his shoulder and standing.

"I-I'll be okay, Claire," Chris said a bit dizzily, leaning against the blond man. Lowering his voice, he added, "Piers agreed to be restrained. Jake did do that, didn't he Wesker?" He looked up at Wesker worriedly. How long had he been knocked out? Wesker had shown up at some point during that.

“Yes. He's secured.” He helped Chris out of the room quickly, turning briefly back to Claire. “Fix that wall and stay quiet.”

Claire looked worriedly at Chris and nodded. 

“You better keep my brother safe, Wesker. I mean it,” she added bitterly, heading back inside.

They went quickly down the hall, a few survivors rushing past to the safe room with their arms full of stuff. When they arrived back to Wesker's little lab, Chris noticed Sherry sleeping peacefully on the cot. She looked amazingly calm.

Across the room though...

Piers was strapped down tightly to what looked like a pile of iron struts – Jake hugged close to his side. What in the world?

Wesker stopped in front of a pile of boxes to scrape them off to the side. Buried underneath was a comfy looking plush chair. 

It was red.

Carefully sitting Chris into the chair, Wesker patted him knee. 

“Do you need anything before I close the door? Do you have your gun?” The blond looked him over critically.

Chris shook his head slightly, looking up at his face and studying it. He was paler than the Wesker in the dreams, and he was back to wearing those black shades over his eyes. Still...

On an impulse, he reached up and ran his thumb over the blond's lips slowly. Cold, but they really did feel the same.

Wesker froze. The red dots behind the shades grew wide for an instant before he placed a hand over Chris's. 

The brunette looked down at his hand and then back up to his eyes. He offered a small, weary smile and closed his eyes.

"Wesker. I...owe you an apology."

“For what?” The blond man asked slowly. “You've done nothing wrong.”

Chris moved his hand finally, pressing it his own forehead instead. 

"You told me not to push it, a-and I end up knocked out on the floor. Should've listened to you." 

“Yes, you should have,” Wesker said shortly, turning to get a blanket. He froze again, spotting Jake and Piers cuddled up together. He shook his head and snagged a blanket from next to Sherry. As he passed by her, he tugged her blanket up to cover her shoulder. He returned to Chris and spread the blanket over his lap.

Chris glanced over at Sherry thoughtfully, then at Jake and Piers. Wesker didn't seem to know what to make of it, either. 

"I don't have my gun with me," he told the blond, going back to looking at him perhaps a little more intently than necessary. "...I was dreaming about you," he added, sighing.

The tall man frowned and settled onto the floor in front of Chris. It was a little strange to see him just casually sitting there, an arm propped up on his knee. 

“Did I hurt you?” Wesker asked quietly. 

Chris blinked, feeling his face grow warm. He looked down at the floor. 

"No. We, uh. I guess we had a fight. I made you sleep on the couch." 

A smile crept across Wesker's face. 

“How cruel.”

That was an unexpected reaction. Chris looked at him and nodded rather seriously. 

"It was — we had a horrible week already. One of our kids fell out of a tree and broke his arm."

“Kids?” Wesker cocked his head. “We have children? Interesting.”

Chris sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked down. 

"Yeah. I wasn't gonna mention them."

“Why?” The blond scooted closer so that he could lower his voice. “It's just a dream.”

Remembering the others in the room sleeping, Chris lowered his voice as well. 

"Because they're people we know, and that makes me sound crazy."

“Jake and Piers?”

The brunette looked at him in surprise. 

"H-how'd you know that?" It didn't stand to reason that Wesker's real son would be his son in the dreams, right? 

“Just a guess,” the blond said coolly. He looked behind him and grabbed the box that was sitting next to the bed. As Wesker dragged it closer, Chris saw that it was full of snacks. The blond began to pick through it.

Bemused, the brunette glanced over at Jake and Piers. He recalled the baby picture on Wesker's computer. 

“So you let our child jump out of a tree?” Wesker asked, pulling up a candy and examining it closely. “These will probably make you throw up – but I can't remember seeing you eat in the last 24 hours.” He held up what looked like a chocolate cookie. It looked freshly baked under the plastic.

"I was trying to get him down," Chris said glumly, like it had really happened. It felt like it had. "He slipped, and I didn't manage to catch him. That's actually what we were fighting about — I think you were blaming me." 

He looked at the cookie like it was some foreign substance. It kind of was...the preservatives it was laced with had to be strong for any baked good to survive this long.

“You tried? You'd think if it was our child, you'd try harder.” It really sounded like something the Wesker in his dreams would say, not this one. The blond sat the cookie on Chris's lap and pulled out the candy bar from earlier, unwrapping it slowly.

Chris frowned at him. 

"You think I wanted him to get hurt? He dropped a toy on my head right before he fell, or I would've caught him. I only left them for a second, and he was just up the tree..." 

Realizing he was getting worked up over events that hadn't actually happened, he drew a deep breath and sighed slowly. "Doesn't matter anyway," he said sadly. "It's not real."

“Sometimes it's good to examine how you act in fictional situations,” the blond man said. He took a bite of the candy bar and his mouth twisted in disgust.

Chris picked up the cookie. 

"Come on, what are the chances of me ever having kids at this point?" He asked, a bit bitterly. "I'm not even sure why I'm dreaming about it."

“I find it intriguing that you seem to be dreaming the same dream.” The man in front of him spit the candy bar back into the wrapper and sat it aside. He glanced over at Jake and Piers thoughtfully.

"It continues, too," Chris said, feeling strangely relieved to discuss this with someone. Wesker wasn't one of the people out there he was supposedly the leader of, so he didn't have to try to look as mentally sound as possible. "Whatever happens in one keeps going next time, usually with some time gap that happened while I was awake."

He cautiously unwrapped the cookie, like it might start moving when exposed to the air. He'd seen freakier things happen.

"Piers broke his arm in a different dream," he continued, as an example. "Next dream, we were in the hospital. The dream after that, we were home again and he was in a cast."

Wesker turned back to him. 

“Fascinating. So, we are married and have two children – Jake and Piers – and live in a world where zombies never appeared,” he said in review, picking through the box again. “I can understand why you keep hurting your head.”

Chris blushed faintly and touched the newest bump on his head. 

"I'm not doing this on purpose. I still have the dreams when I just go to sleep, too," he said sheepishly. "And, they're not perfect. Piers is afraid of you."

Stopping in his rummaging, Wesker frowned. 

“My own son? Why?” He glanced slowly up at Chris, still frowning. “Did you tell him about the real me?”

Chris was still scrutinizing the cookie, and had yet to actually try to eat it. 

He frowned at it now, replying, "No, he has nightmares about you."

“I see,” his former captain said. He rested his arms on the edge of the box, a small bag of chips in his hand. “Not unlike the real world, I'm sure.”

The brunette sighed and sat the cookie aside, rubbing his forehead again. 

"I-I don't know. It doesn't matter, Wesker, they're just dreams. I just have trouble going from that back to this."

Shoving the box aside, Wesker sat up on his knee to look at Chris more evenly. He placed a cold hand on Chris's knee. 

“Perhaps they're something to strive for.” The blond sat the chips on Chris's lap too. “All the pieces are here.”

Chris picked up his hand and held it in both of his, looking at it sadly. Wesker was so cold. 

"Do you feel anything like this?" He asked softly.

Wesker leaned on Chris's knees. 

“I'm not always doom and gloom. I've done so much damage, I feel like there must be something I can do to help you – even if it's attempting to 'look on the bright side.'” He closed the hand Chris had. “I'll fix this. All of it.” He paused like he wanted to say more but decided against it.

"Some things we've done, we can't take back." Chris sighed, moving one of his hands to rest against the blond's neck lightly. He was cold to the touch everywhere, it seemed.

This reminded him of the dream all over again. The very similar chair wasn't helping...nor Wesker really talking to him instead of just calm, brief replies. He wished the sunglasses weren't there so that he could remind himself that this was not the Wesker he kept dreaming about.

Were they really so different, though? Both said they loved him — this one just had more scars. 

Wesker leaned against his touch, eyebrows saddening ever so slightly. 

“I know.” He seemed so nonthreatening at that moment. No scowling or pacing or posturing. For once, the blond wasn't putting up a mask to scare off the other members of the group. “I wish I could – but it's simply not possible.” 

There Chris was – sitting in a cozy chair with a man that loved him within arms’ reach. The only hint that Chris hadn't slipped off into another one of his dreams was the red glint behind those lenses.

Chris was silent for a moment, struck by the change. He wondered if Wesker had any more idea how to fix the disaster that the world had turned into than he did. 

"Can't go back there," he said quietly, squeezing Wesker's hand. "Maybe we could go somewhere else. Somewhere new."

“Anywhere – just tell me where you want to go, and I'll take you there,” the blond replied solemnly. He turned and kissed Chris's hand, standing up out of his reach. “But for now, we're stuck here.” His back straightened and that familiar cold posture returned. “For now at least.”

The brunette immediately wrapped his arms around himself, slumping in the chair and looking off toward the door. 

"Yeah. We'll have to be quiet soon."

“I don't think that will be an issue.” Wesker glanced at Jake pointedly. “You should get some rest while you can. I'll wake you up when they get close.” He pulled out a small handheld radio and sat it on his card table. “Tell the other me hi,” he added sarcastically, taking a seat and poking at his tablet.

"I shouldn't sleep," Chris said tiredly. "I just got hit in the head hard enough to knock me out." He glanced over at Jake and Piers dubiously. Was Piers asleep when Jake laid down next to him? They'd find out quick enough when the two woke up.

"Are you still working on the treatment for Piers?" He asked after a moment. It had to be different to make from Jake and Sherry's blood samples than Wesker's own, right?

“Yes,” came the short reply. Wesker didn't even look up from his computer.

Chris nodded and curled up in the red chair, leaning against the side with his chin propped up on one hand.

"Then I won't distract you."

“You always distract me,” the blond said quietly, popping a tiny tube out of the side of his tablet. He picked up a syringe and drew the liquid into it.

Chris watched this curiously, but didn't move. 

"Sorry..."

Wesker stood up from his chair and went to hover of Piers ominously with needle in hand. He gently rolled the sleeping soldier's sleeve down and pressed the needle into his skin.

Piers woke up with a start – gasping in surprise. 

“Ow! What the hell?”

Chris sat up a little, but before he had a chance to say anything, he heard Jake demanding, "What the hell are you doing?!" 

The redhead had a protective arm around Piers, and was half sitting up between the sniper and Wesker. It seemed he just assumed his father was always up to no good. 

“His first treatment is ready to be tested,” Wesker replied calmly, smoothing a tiny bandaid onto Piers' arm. It had a green smiley face on it.

Piers looked at Jake with big eyes, cheeks darkening.

The redhead glanced at him, arm still wrapped tight over his chest. 

"..." He sent Wesker one more glare before sitting up and patting Piers' shoulder. "Well, let's hope it actually works. Are ya still cold?" 

The small brunette shook his head furiously. 

Wesker went back to his desk and sat down.

Piers watched him go and then spotted Chris curled up in his chair. 

“Captain – are you okay?”

Jake looked quickly where Piers was looking. Spotting Chris, he scowled a little and slipped out from under the blanket, stepping over to check on Sherry. 

"I should really be asking you that," Chris said, standing and stepping over beside the "bed". He looked at the straps in a carefully blank way. "I'm fine, I just hit my head. Again," he said, smiling wearily.

“You really need to stop doing that,” Piers replied. 

Sherry was snuggled up in her blanket, sound asleep right where Jake had left her. The yelling hadn't seemed to bother her one bit.

"Yeah, I think somebody's already said that," Chris said, looking at the dark marks on the sniper's face. "How are you feeling? I wish we had a more comfortable bed for you."

'Bed' was a relative term. He frowned at it.

Jake sat on the cot sideways and tucked the blanket in around Sherry's shoulders a bit more. Chris got the impression he didn't want to be over there with Piers while Chris was.

“Warm.” Piers eyes flicked in Jake's direction and he cleared his throat. “But still human at least. Whatever Wesker injected me with earlier seems like it's working.” He suddenly lowered his voice. “Are the Lickers here?”

"Not yet." Chris patted one of his hands. "It'll work. Wesker's brilliant at this stuff — you're gonna be okay." 

“I'm just a little nervous letting the man that started the zombie apocalypse create my cure. Conflict of interest.” Piers seemed much less exhausted than last time Chris saw him, but the dark skin and glinting eyes told him otherwise.

Chris sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

"Wesker worked with Umbrella, but he didn't start it, Piers. This goes way back."

“I know – I was just trying to be funny,” the brunette grumbled halfheartedly. He leaned on to his side to face Chris better. “I know this isn't really a good time for this, but I need to know – I might not be around later...”

"None of that talk." Chris turned halfway on the bed to be able to see his face, too. He sighed. "Go ahead, what is it?"

“A-are you and Wesker together?” Piers cringed as he asked, keeping his voice very low. Chris still heard Wesker turn in his chair to look at them.

"We..." He leaned closer and lowered his voice, doing his best to avoid looking at Wesker for the moment. "...We are." 

“Ah.” Piers nodded and blushed. “I thought so. Just...just be careful, captain.”

Wesker turned slowly back to his tablet, poking at the screen absently. 

"Don't worry about it," Chris said, bemused. He lowered his voice even more. "...Why do you think I should be careful?"

Piers simply mouthed his reply, gesturing to the blond across the room with his chin. 

'It's Wesker.'

Fair enough. The brunette sat back and nodded, patting Piers' hand again. 

"Thanks, Piers. It's really...I can't tell you how good it is to have you back."

Jake glanced covertly at Wesker and his tablet, then over at Piers. Sherry seemed to be resting peacefully enough, and he was still not trusting enough to leave Piers alone tied down over there with Wesker in the room.

Chris didn't seem like he'd be much help if Wesker claimed whatever he was doing would cure Piers.

The radio on the table buzzed to life with the sound of Leon's voice. 

“Wesker, come in.”

Wesker scooped up the radio and pressed the button. 

“What is it?”

“We're settled in over here and are about to lock everything down – I need everyone to sound off.”

Chris sat up, glancing over. It was VERY strange to hear Leon addressing Wesker over the radio.

"Last call for the vending machine," Jake commented drolly.

He stepped back over to Piers and the bed, crossing his arms and watching Chris expectantly like he was waiting for him to move.

“Sherry ransacked it earlier anyways,” Piers added, looking shyly up at Jake. 

“Alright, I hear Jake and Piers – and you, obviously – Chris? You there?” Leon asked with concern.

“Chris and Sherry are here as well.”

“Yeah, I want to hear HIM say that.”

With a frown, Wesker turned around in his chair to offer Chris the radio.

Accepting it, Chris stepped back over to his chair and took a seat. 

"I'm here, Leon. Sherry's sleeping — you'll have to take my word that she's here, okay?"

“There you are.” Leon sighed in relief. “You left your headset over here – do you want me to run it over to you? I'm not too thrilled with the idea of calling up Wesker every time we have to talk.”

Jake promptly sat on the edge of Piers' bed where Chris had been, and started tucking the blanket in around the sniper without being asked to. 

“Thanks,” the small man said to Jake, shifting uncomfortably away from his hands.

Noticing this, Jake carefully tucked the last bit of the blanket in and sat back, crossing his arms. 

"Anything I can get you? Need some water?" He asked quietly. It was really annoying having Wesker not even ten feet away. 

"That's not necessary — we've got a working radio, let's just stay put," Chris told Leon, sighing. "Consider it the room's radio instead of Wesker's, if that helps." He paused. "Rebecca and Billy wound up over there, right? Not the best introduction to the group."

“They're here – Rebecca is making noise about not getting a chance to examine Sherry before all of this, but they seem like they're settling in okay. Lots of the civvies need medical attention.”

Piers half listened to the radio and nodded to Jake. 

“Some water. That sounds pretty good.”

"On it." Jake hopped off of the bed and went to dig through their small stack of supplies. Piers couldn't exactly sit up to drink, so he pulled the straw off of a juice box that had been in the vending machine assortment. That and a small bottle of water were what he returned to the bed with. 

"Rebecca's reliable," Chris said to Leon. "She's also a chemist — saved my life once with a serum for venom. We should find her some supplies."

“We will. I guess it's goodbye for awhile, then,” Leon said dramatically. “I'll call you when they're far enough away – or if they come inside.”

Piers just stared at the water bottle and then up to Jake. 

“Um.”

“I know, I know,” the redhead said under his breath, twisting the cap off of the water bottle. Sticking the small pink straw from the juice box into the water, he held it carefully near Piers' face close enough for him to reach the straw. Jake seemed bothered by something, but reluctant to say much with both Chris and Wesker in the room. Well, that wasn't going to change for awhile.

“Roger that. Take care of everybody over there, Leon — that includes you,” Chris said, trying to lighten the mood a little. “Over and out.” 

Wesker held out a hand at Chris for the radio. 

“I didn't have time to locate that hole in the building. Should I go do that now?” His expression was the usual cold one, but for some reason, Chris got the feeling he was bored.

Piers shyly sipped at the straw, avoiding eye contact with Jake at all costs. The whole setup felt awkward, especially after confirming Chris and Wesker's relationship...and sleeping huddled up with Jake. He cringed.

Unfortunately, the redhead noticed the cringe. He tilted his head a little to see Piers' expression better. 

"You okay?"

Shrugging, Chris handed the radio back to Wesker. 

"Sure, go for it." If there was one person he wasn't worried about encountering Lickers in a fight, it was Wesker. Or encountering almost anything in a fight, for that matter.

Standing up, Wesker dropped the radio back onto the table behind him. 

“Stay quiet. I'll be back shortly.” He started for the door, but paused. The tall blond came back to Chris's side and kissed his cheek before hurrying outside of the room.

“I...” Piers cleared his throat and tried again, this time more softly. “I'm sorry about freaking out earlier.” He knew he had already apologized, but it didn't feel like enough. He had been acting ridiculous and making everyone else take care of him for no good reason at all. If he was a real soldier, he'd just suck it up and lay there quietly until told to do otherwise.

Sometimes he missed the military.

Jake blinked and sat up, placing the bottle of water aside. 

Turning back to Piers, he said quietly, "Don't you even worry about it. You think I wouldn't be flippin' out if it was me strapped to a table?"

Chris watched Wesker head out the door, and continued to look that way. He was listening to the conversation between Jake and Piers, though. As far as he was aware, the two never got along that well, so he was curious how that had changed so much.

“You'd probably spit at me,” Piers said sadly, tightening his fingers around the straps. “I don't think I ever apologized for THAT either – I'm really sorry.”

Jake smirked. 

"Oh, please. That was pretty gutsy for a guy who couldn't even stand on his own. Especially since I probably..." He frowned and sighed a little. "...Reminded you of Wesker a lot."

The small brunette blushed and nodded. 

“Yeah, you did. He's-” Piers cut himself off, glancing Chris's way and lowering his voice to a whisper. “Wesker's not as crazy as I thought, though.”

Jake glanced at Chris, too. He scooted closer to the top of the bed and leaned on one arm to talk to Piers in a whisper as well. 

"Oh yeah? What makes you say that?"

Leaning away from him, Piers' cheeked blushed pink and he had trouble making it through his sentence. 

“I-I just mean that you being like him isn't really a bad thing.”

Bemused by such a reaction, Jake arched an eyebrow. 

"Put us side by side and there's no denyin' we look alike," he admitted, still whispering. "It's okay if you think it's a bad thing. Really, I'm not gonna be offended." 

Stretched away from Jake as much as he could – which wasn't far – Piers cringed and mumbled. 

“I didn't mean his looks.”

Sherry stirred in her bed, rolling and loosening the blanket off of her shoulders. She was smiling.

Chris glanced over at the sound of the blanket rustling. Quietly, he got up and moved over to check on the blond girl.

Jake frowned at that, and looked away. 

"You think I act anything like him?"

“You're both protective of people you like.” Piers nodded to Sherry, even though Jake wasn't looking at him – which also worked, because that's where Chris was. He kept his voice low. “And you don't care who doesn't like it.” The words from his conversation with Wesker earlier echoed through his mind and he swallowed nervously. “I think you'll make a great dad.”

Jake glanced quickly where he was nodding, looking troubled again. 

"I'm not that used to havin' people I like again," he admitted, frowning. "After mom died, I didn't give a damn about anybody but myself for a long time. Guess I'm making up for lost time."

Chris moved Sherry's blanket back up over her shoulders again and tucked it in.

“Thanks Jake,” Sherry mumbled sweetly, snuggling her nose back under the covers.

“I think that's what Wesker's trying to do too,” Piers said as softly as he could, eyes drifting to Chris's back.

Jake glanced quickly back toward Chris and Sherry. He thought he'd heard his name. 

"Well I never tried to wipe out the human race, so he's got a lot more catching up to do," he muttered, getting to his feet and heading that way.

Chris glanced as he approached, then looked over at Piers. 

Piers looked at him with pleading gray eyes. Whatever he and Jake had been discussing seemed like it had left him more depressed than before.

"Just talking in her sleep," Chris assured Jake as soon as he reached them. The redhead stopped and exchanged a few very quiet words with him for a moment. Jake turned and headed back over to Piers, sitting down where he'd been before.


	16. Bad Memories

Piers stared at Jake like he was a ghost, and looked away quickly as he approached the bed. They still had around 38 hours of this...ugh. He sighed softly, twisting his wrists in the straps absently. They weren't as tight as they could be – thank god. But they weren't loose enough for him to escape either. His mind couldn't help wandering to what would happen if a Licker arrived.

Lickers. He had never actually seen one before. Chris had talked about them a bit, but more in a 'if you see one, run' kind of way.

"Don't do that," Jake said flatly without looking at him. "Gonna leave marks." He was talking about Piers twisting at the straps, of course. 

Chris moved back to his red chair.

Piers flinched at the sound of Jake's voice, looking up at him again. 

“Ah. Sorry.” Chris moving back to his chair was a bit of a relief though. He was farther away and hopefully out of earshot of their awkward conversations.

Jake turned his blue eyes on the sniper again, somehow managing to look accusing and concerned at the same time. Or maybe the scowl wasn't intentional. 

"Listen," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper again. "This isn't exactly a party. You don't have to act like everything's great, okay? I get it." He sighed and ran a gloved hand over his short hair, glancing around the room absently. "We should just find something for ya to do besides stare at the ceiling, and time'll go by a lot faster."

“Like what?” Piers looked around the room with a frown. “It's not like I can use my hands anyway.”

Jake looked around again and frowned. 

"No, but you could watch something, or...read something. Or listen to ME read something," he offered. Hey, it was better than sitting there feeling awkward.

Chris appeared to be dozing in his chair, and offered them no suggestions.

The small man looked around again, this time more critically. 

“I can just lay here – I did a lot of that in Wesker's lab too, when he wasn't poking at me.” He looked over at Chris. At least he was resting again.

Jake turned back to him and sighed, reaching to place a hand on his forehead. 

"Sorry it has to be this way. How are you doing? What's it like when you're all J'avo in the head, anyway?" He sounded genuinely curious.

“Scary,” Piers said quietly, closing his eyes. There was no point in being embarrassed by people touching him anymore. His back still hurt a little from Wesker flinging him around and his arms were starting to get sore from being stretched over his head. Jake's hand felt nice. “I can still think, but things are really fuzzy and...and my thoughts ramble together. It turns into babbling after awhile and then I want to hurt people.”

Seeing as he hadn't cringed or looked uncomfortable, Jake didn't move his hand away. The brunette looked like he might be a little more relaxed now, which was good to see. 

"Sounds a little bit like being drunk," the redhead mused. "Or having a really bad fever. I guess that's sort of what it is, since it's a virus."

Piers looked up at him again, eyes heavy and relaxed. His forehead was surprisingly warm. 

“I don't drink much. I like to stay focused.”

"Yeah, you seem like a serious kind of guy," Jake agreed, smiling at him. A smile and not a smirk — that didn't happen too often. "Everybody's gotta wind down once in awhile. Live it up, you know."

Piers smiled back. It was a soft, kind smile that had a weird sort of glow to it. He laughed a little as he spoke. 

“I think I've lived a lot lately – taking it slow sounds nice.” He closed his eyes again and sighed deeply. His face was starting to glisten with sweat. Something wasn't right.

"Your temperature's up," Jake murmured, studying his face worriedly. He'd been trying not to be distracted by the combination of the smile and amused voice when he noticed. Sitting up, the redhead pulled off his gloves and moved to feel Piers' forehead with with one hand, one side of his face with the other. 

“Ooh. Your hands are cold, sir,” Piers said, eyes still closed. “There's a spare blanket in my pack.”

"Thanks," Jake said, deciding that playing along was better than trying to explain the truth. He gripped Piers' chin and turned his head toward him. "Hey, look at me a sec."

Piers eyes flashed open. They weren't gray anymore. They were a murky mixture of gray and crimson. He blinked slowly, unfocused. 

“What makes you think I didn't?”

Red mixed in? That wasn't the same as when Piers had started to get delirious before. It didn't look like a good thing, but at least it was just the colors of his eyes changing, not a bloodshot type of red. So far.

Jake let go of his chin and moved his hand back up to rest on the brunette's forehead. 

"Easy. I'm just asking."

“You always act like this. Nobody knows,” Piers added in a whisper, looking up at Jake intently. “We'll be alright.”

The radio on the counter buzzed.

Jake locked eyes with him and didn't move. The radio buzzed and he ignored it. Was Piers talking about something real that he remembered, or something he was imagining? It was impossible to tell.

"Yeah," he said, still worriedly though. "You're right."  


Chris stirred slightly when the radio buzzed, rubbing at his eyes. Jake, he noticed, was leaning over the bed, his face very close to Piers' and a hand on the smaller man's forehead. 

They were back to their whispering routine, apparently. He scooted over and picked up the still-buzzing radio, clicking the button. 

"Chris here."

Piers looked up at the sound of Chris's voice. 

“Dad?” He said hazily, squinting at the big brunette man.

“What the hell is Wesker doing?!” Leon hissed on the other end of the radio.

"Wesker," Chris repeated, glancing at Piers worriedly. He frowned as Jake patted the other brunette's chest. 

"It's okay, just lay back," the redhead was saying, looking troubled. He wondered if Piers had had a good relationship with his father or a bad one.

"...He's gonna go patch the hole in the roof," Chris continued to Leon.

“What hole? We searched all over the place – there's no hole!” Leon continued, trying very hard not to sound as annoyed as he obviously was. “He just left the mall anyway!”

“Let go of me!” Piers suddenly yelled, turning his face away from Jake. “I won't tell you anything, asshole!”

Jake jumped at the sudden screaming, sitting back and moving his hands away. The straps ought to hold well enough if Piers tried to get up. If these were memories...he didn't really want to know where this one was from. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said, hoping that got through somehow. It was pretty tough to explain to somebody why they were strapped to a table if you weren't going to hurt them, though.

Chris, meanwhile, was in disbelief. 

"He left?" He asked Leon, looking over at Piers grimly. "This's bad. He gave Piers a shot earlier, but he's having an episode over here." 

“Great. I hope Jake's ready to do what he has to if need be.” He could hear as the blond on the other end of the radio grimaced.

Gasping and struggling against the straps, Piers looked back to Jake. His eyes were no longer a murky color – they were red. Just like Wesker's.

"Piers." Jake looked him in the eyes grimly. Red was not good. This was the kind of crap that happened when one experimented with treatments based on Wesker's blood. "C'mon, I know you're in there." He placed a hand on the brunette's forehead again. "Talk to me."

"It's not serious enough to be saying things like that," Chris whispered, frowning. He glanced down at Sherry. She couldn't stay asleep much longer with all of the shouting on the other side of the room.

The blond woman was stirring, rubbing her cheek sleepily. She looked up at Chris in a confused sort of way, glancing across the room. 

“Piers?” Pushing the blankets off, she slung her legs over the edge of the cot.

Piers seemed to calm at Jake's touch, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing raggedly. 

“Jake. Ah, Jake.” He pulled steadily on the straps – causing the metal they were attached to to creak. The smaller man writhed in his covers, teeth clenched in pain.

Jake moved the hand on his forehead over his eyes, reaching to grab one of his wrists with the other. 

"Easy. It's okay, I've got you," he said as steadily as he could. It was tough to sound calm and reassuring when visions of Piers breaking loose and hurting himself — and possibly Sherry — were going through Jake's mind.

"Stop!" Chris caught Sherry's arm as she started to stand, shaking his head. "We've gotta stay back," he said grimly. "Jake's immune — we're not."

She frowned and sat back down, hugging onto Chris's arm sadly.

Piers' skin was clammy to the touch. He felt cold now. 

“Why?!” He shook his head, trying to get rid of Jake's hand. With a sudden gasp, he lay very still.

“Chris!” Leon yelled into the radio. “Chris, you should get the hell out of there. Jake can handle it – get Sherry and head this way now!” There was some noise in the background and he heard Claire speak – but she was too quiet for him to understand. “Chris. The Lickers are heading this way – fast.”

"You want us to leave them?" Chris looked between Jake and Piers and Sherry, frowning. Where the hell had Wesker gone? He was starting to see how it wouldn't be safe for Sherry locked in here with Piers. Or him. 

Jake had moved his hand aside and was feeling Piers' cheek and muttering something under his breath. 

Piers was limp. If he was breathing at all, it was shallow.

“Yes – exactly!” Leon said angrily. “Forget it, I'm coming to get you!” The radio crackled off.

"Negative, do NOT come over here!" Chris replied immediately. When he got no response, he growled and tossed the radio on the table. "Sherry, we've gotta go to the other safe house right now." 

A rather loud slap jolted them both from across the room. Jake was doing his best to get Piers to wake up again.

Piers' back arched slightly and his eyes lulled open as he managed a wheezing breath. His chest heaved as he started breathing again, shaking his head dizzily.

“What? I'm not leaving!” Sherry protested loudly, jumping to her feet. Despite her objection, she shoved on her boots and grabbed her pistol from under the bed.

"We don't have time for this!" Chris grabbed one of her arms — not a rough grip, just enough to get her to stop and look at him. "This's making a lot of noise. Lickers are on their way — I'm thinking about the baby's safety, NOT just ours." 

He was sure that Jake could handle himself in a fight. Frankly, the guy could probably fistfight the Lickers and still come out of it with just a few scratches. Piers wasn't a direct threat to Sherry or him right now, but being delusional tended to be loud, and that drew the Lickers in.

Jake was ignoring both of them, a hand on Piers' forehead again. He was still talking to the brunette quietly, too quietly to really make out the words.

Sherry looked like she might cry, but nodded. She turned to Jake and Piers. 

“Jake, I'm sorry! We have to go! Please be careful!” She wasn't sure if he heard her, but she headed for the door. “How do we know if the other safe house is any better?” The blond girl snapped at Chris, stepping out into the hallway.

"It doesn't have Piers in it," Chris replied. It was difficult to say, and he was sure his expression told her how hard this was for him as well. He turned and shut the door tightly, then started immediately down the hall. "Leon's coming to us — we need to meet him halfway, get back as fast as we can. Move!"

“Why the hell did Wesker choose all the way over here?” Leon grumbled lowly as he hurried down the hall towards them. Sherry ran to him in tears, giving him a big hug.

“Piers isn't doing so g-”

There was a loud snap from above them – then something large landed on the two blonds, causing a cave-in of pieces of roof and dust. 

The floor buckled under the Licker's claws as its tongue thrashed around on the floor. It had landed on Leon more than Sherry, and the blond man was already firing shots through it. 

Sherry jumped out of the way, reaching for Chris – but it was too late. They fell through the floor in a big ball of exposed slimy muscle and rubble.

The tiles under Chris snapped loudly and tipped toward the hole.

"Sherry!" Chris scrambled to move to a piece of floor that wasn't sliding through the hole, pressing back against the wall and stepping quickly along it. He looked down at the floor below, the Licker still flopping around with bits of tile and insulation sticking to its slimy body. He couldn't see Sherry or Leon from this angle, but they had to be somewhere.

He heard Sherry's voice from below. 

“Run!” 

There were the sounds of footsteps tearing off through shallow water – then the Licker went crawling off after them.

“This way!” Leon's voice echoed off in the distance.

"Damn it!" Chris grabbed a piece of the ceiling tile and hurled it after the thing. He didn't have his gun — why the hell didn't he have his gun? He'd let Wesker lead him in here while delirious from getting knocked out, and hadn't been thinking. 

The creature was hurling along through the sewers, claws clicking. It stopped suddenly. Then a tongue lapped out and caught Chris in the shoulder, flipping him into the hole.

The brunette barely had time to try and grab for the edge of the hole before going crashing into the floor below. There was no time to be dazed by the pain the impact sent through his ribs, either — he hauled himself to his feet and scrambled back away from where he'd seen the Licker last. There were boards on the floor, so he grabbed one. It was a better weapon than his fists, though not by much. 

With a snarl, the licker jumped at him – landing on the wall behind him and then the floor. He heard splashing footsteps, and saw the flash of a gun barrel off in the dim tunnel.

“Chris, this way!” Leon yelled, firing a barrage of shots into the slathering B.O.W. Sherry was at his side, her pistol drawn. 

Taking advantage of the cover fire, Chris dashed past the Licker, staying as far out of the shooting path as he could. This was exactly where they DIDN'T want to be when the creatures showed up — out within their reach.

When he reached the two, the muscular man turned and hurled the board he held at the Licker in case it was following him.

It certainly was. It was moving so fast that a steady stream of water shot up into the air behind it. The board broke over its body as it sped closer. Leon grabbed Chris's arm and yanked him along around the corner. Sherry took off running ahead of them, stumbling over waste in the badly lit area.

She stopped abruptly, spiraling her arms out to the side. The tunnel ended in a sharp tilt down. Leon shook his head and looked ahead of them and then back at the Licker. 

Spinning around, Sherry jumped past them – punching the Licker as it flew to them. It shrieked and skidded back momentarily.

Chris charged after the blond and barreled right into the Licker, tackling it and rolling. When he felt his back touch the ground, he kicked to send the slimy thing flying over his head into the nearest wall. 

It flew away easily, pelted with more bullets as it went. It spun in the air, landing on the wall and launching back at them. Blood was gushing from its mouth and body as it tackled Leon in return — sending them both sliding off down the slant.

“Leon!” Sherry screamed.

"Stay here!" Chris ordered the girl, charging after Leon and the Licker. He wasn't afraid of going sliding straight down the slope, but he couldn't put Sherry and her baby into that kind of danger — as if she wasn't in enough danger already. 

He refused to leave Leon to get slashed up by that thing, either. The moment he felt its slimy body, he planned to go with the only option left to him — which was to pummel it until it either stopped moving or turned around and killed him.

He landed into deep water. His feet didn't touch bottom. It stung at his eyes as his head returned to the surface. There was a large piece of grating ahead of him – along with Leon and their attacker.

Leon slipped through the grating, struggling to free his leg from the monster's tongue. Luckily for him, it didn't have a firm grip.

There was a splash beside Chris as Sherry landed in the water.

Chris splashed over to the Licker while it was still trying to capture Leon's leg again, grabbed it by the neck, and slammed its head against the grating. The thing was already gushing blood and slime from all of the bullet holes, and its exposed brain was no match for the metal bars. He smashed it a few extra times for good measure. 

The beast managed to get a clawed arm up between it and the grating – pushing against Chris's grasp. It was severely injured.

“Chris! Keep it there!” Sherry yelled, running up to the grating and reaching through to Leon...no. She grabbed the Licker's tongue and pulled it back, wrapping it around the bars. Leon had his pistol out, but didn't seem to want to risk shooting with them both right there.

Chris grabbed the grate with one hand and held the Licker with the other, pinning it to the wall with his body. The damned thing was STILL moving, albeit weakly. He was half-drenched in blood by now, and from the rough sound of his own breathing, that first fall might have cracked a rib or two.

Bracing a boot on the grating, Sherry pulled with all her might – smashing the thing's face against the grating.

Leon shoved his hand through the bars. He waved the pistol at his friend. 

“Chris, gun!” 

Releasing the creature to snatch the pistol from him, Chris jammed it against the back of the Licker's head with the nose pointing clear of Leon and pulled the trigger. 

They were splattered in a wave of bits. It was a slurry of brain, blood and slime. The ring of the gun was deafening.

Sherry splashed onto her back, still holding the creature's tongue. She made a face and threw it aside, crawling to her feet. Leon uncovered his ears and leaned on the bars to catch his breath.

Sherry placed a hand on Chris's arm and then hugged him tightly.

“Man. I hate Lickers,” Leon managed at last, already slipping back through the bars. He was limping.

Chris hugged Sherry tightly with one arm, the gun still in his hand and the other arm still braced on the grate. 

"You...still have your radio, Leon?" 

He glanced over at his friend, noticing the limp, and frowned.

“No,” the blond groaned, gently taking the pistol back. 

“I left it with your sister – just like my shotgun,” he added sadly. Sherry patted Chris's back and broke away from him, taking a steadying breath.

"Okay," Chris sighed, looking up at the slope they're fallen down from. He hissed a tiny bit — the sigh made his side hurt — and added, "Better question: what DO we have?"

Leon rummaged quietly through his pockets and frowned. 

“Got gum.” 

It figured. He always seemed to have gum. He slipped his pistol into his holster and also looked around the dark tunnels.

“Are you okay?” Sherry asked Chris, looking up at him. She was covered in blood too. Since she had grabbed the thing's tongue, her entire front was smeared red, as well as her chin.

"It's nothing serious," Chris assured her wearily, looking her over like she might be injured, too. He could hardly believe the blond had actually attacked the Licker with her bare hands. She could heal up from extreme injuries, but it didn't make her invincible, and they had no idea whether it worked on her baby or not...

Leon stared up the slope too. Without any rope, they couldn't go back the way they came. He silently cursed himself for leaving the radio with Claire. 

“Hey.” The blond man waved to catch Sherry's attention. “That was just one of them – we should probably start finding a way back.” He then gestured to the tunnels around them. “There's five more of those things.”

“Five?” Sherry groaned, looking around nervously. “We should tell Jake!”

Leon looked from her to Chris. 

“Do you guys have a radio? Because I don't.”

Chris shook his head, frowning. 

"First thing we'd better do is be quiet," he said, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "I could probably boost you two back up the way we came down."

Leon moved over to them and looked up again. 

“I don't know, Chris. The water's pretty deep over there.” It was true. Where they had fallen in was much deeper than where they had fought the Licker against the grating. Even getting someone as light as Sherry up to the slope would be hard – and then she'd have to climb against a lot of water pressure. The blond man shrugged a shoulder. 

“Whatever we're doing, let's hurry.” Sherry whispered, sloshing past Leon in the water to look down the different tunnels. 

“Agreed. Everyone's probably freaking out.” Leon mumbled sadly. He squinted at Chris. “I hope Wesker gets his butt back here soon.”

Chris had forgotten that the water near the slope was deeper. He sighed, turning and starting toward the tunnels. 

"Me, too. Anybody have any kind of light?" He felt around in his pockets. He'd really been so out of it lately that he hadn't been carrying his weapons or tools around as usual.

“I do.” Leon pulled out a tiny pen light and aimed it down the tunnel in front of them.

Sherry fell into step beside them, trying her best not to splash. 

The tunnel was narrow and went off into a right turn up ahead. It looked to be clear, though--no grating blocking the path. Where it led was anybody's guess, but it was better than staying where they were.

"Leon, you've got the gun — give me the light and you take point," Chris said, holding out his hand for the pen light. It would be easier to aim and fire the gun if necessary without also holding the light, he figured.

Placing the light in Chris's hand, Leon smiled. 

“It brings back memories.”

“Ooh yeah.” Sherry shivered, hugging herself. “I hate sewers.”

“I didn't say good memories.”

"At least this time I've got friends with me," Chris told them quietly, mustering a smile as well. He wondered where Wesker had run off to. He'd said he was patching a hole in the roof that Leon claimed was not there...

Wherever he was, hopefully he'd see the new hole in the floor and come dig them out of this mess.  


* * *

  
The radio on the small table buzzed to life again, jolting Piers out of whatever calm he had managed to gather. Red eyes flashed open again and he yanked against the straps.

Jake barely glanced at the radio, focused on Piers. 

"Hey. I know you can hear me," he said flatly, keeping his voice low. He was still pissed that Chris had decided it was a good idea to take Sherry and leave the safe house. What the hell was that about? They didn't even take the radio. 

“Jake?” The brunette managed, staring at him intently. His voice was strained and his breathing was sharp – but his eyes were still focused for the moment. “Where's Chris?” He rolled his head to look at the cot too. “Sherry? Sherry!” 

The redhead reached over and put a hand over his mouth, scowling. 

"Shut up. They left." He immediately felt guilty for being so snappy, though, and moved his hand to pat Piers' shoulder instead, looking down. "...She better be safe wherever he took her."

Piers stared up at him with large dewy red eyes and swallowed. 

“S-sorry.”

The radio buzzed loudly again.

The small brunette looked over at it in concern. “You should get that-”

There was a loud thud as something hit the outside of the door.

Jake glanced quickly toward the door and frowned. Definitely not a person knocking on the door.

He stood and moved to snatch up the radio, punching the button if only to make it stop buzzing. 

"Shh!" He hissed into it, and closed the channel again. Whatever happened to radio silence?

“Chris?” Claire asked desperately on the other end, trying to keep her voice low. “Where are you?”

Jake returned to the bed and Piers. It was further away from the door, and he didn't want to leave the brunette unguarded if something burst through.

Pushing the button again, he whispered, "Look, it's just me and Piers in here now. Hell if I know where Redfield took Sherry, but they left awhile ago."

“Dammit Chris!” Claire hissed and the radio went silent.

Piers was staring up at him again, but in a woozy sort of way. He blinked slowly. 

“Where's...where's dad?”

Jake placed the radio cautiously on the floor beside the bed, then turned and leaned on the side to look at him, frustrated. 

"I don't know. You're slippin' again, your dad isn't here."

Nodding, Piers squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Jake. I feel so weird.” He growled and tugged at his straps again. “It's like a radio. The static is loud.” The smaller man grimaced. 

The door rattled again.

Jake glanced back at it, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He turned and felt Piers' cheek and forehead with his hands. 

"I know. You've gotta be quiet, though — as quiet as you can," he whispered. "How can I help? Could I cover your ears up?"

It seemed silly, but...well, if it DID help...

“But how?” Piers asked, frowning. “It's walking around with a time bomb – sooner or later, somebody's going to know and it'll–” He blinked a few times and sighed. “Right. Jake.”

The redhead looked at him dubiously. It must have been a surreal experience right then, seeing the room from Piers' perspective. 

"Right," he confirmed, "It's Jake. Shh, there's something outside the door. This's a private safe house, I don't want company." 

The door slammed open – and in walked Wesker. He paused by the door to brush something red off of his arm before he looked around. Scanning over the room in a heartbeat, he shut the door and hurried to the bedside. 

“Where the hell is Chris?” He glanced at Piers, but then fixed Jake with a glare.

The redhead hadn't placed himself between Wesker and Piers as he typically did. This time he hopped to his feet and grabbed the collar of Wesker's jacket, glaring at him. 

"No, how about you tell me where the hell YOU went? Next time you give somebody something that'll make them stop breathing, you might wanna stick around and make sure they don't die!"

“I went to get THIS.” Wesker slammed a small briefcase down on the bed. “To make him a cure. Tell me. Right now.” He grabbed Jake's wrist and detached his hand from his jacket. “Where is Chris?”

Jake was not wearing his usual black gloves. He gritted his teeth and pulled backward on his wrist, even though he doubted that would make Wesker let go. 

"Hell if I know," he replied angrily, glaring at his father's dark shades. "He got some call from Leon and just took off with Sherry! Piers wasn't breathing, I was focused on him. Damn it..." He gave up tugging on his arm and slumped a little. If Wesker was getting something for Piers' treatment, he should've just said so instead of telling Chris some BS about fixing the roof.

“And you just let him?” The tall blond man hissed angrily, still holding Jake's arm. Wesker finally let go and pushed him aside to quickly look Piers over. He gently opened his eye with a thumb and frowned deeply.

"Did you not hear the 'wasn't breathing' part?" Jake growled, stepping after him and over to the bedside again. He snatched his gloves up from beside Piers and pulled them back on, shaking his head. "I heard them say they were leavin', but I couldn't exactly leave in the middle of CPR." 

Well...not exactly CPR, but basically the same results, right? A slap seemed to do the trick. He wondered if Piers thought he actually did CPR before resorting to the slap now. Awkward.

“I have to find him...” Wesker mumbled, looking from Piers to the door. His hand was still on Piers' temple and the small brunette man was staring up at him confusedly. He probably was off in another world at that moment. Wesker grabbed the small case he had retrieved and opened it, rummaging through it. There were several needles inside – already full.

Jake stepped around to the other side of the bed, sitting next to Piers and patting the hand nearest to him. 

"Whatever you gave him is making him worse. He's confused and he kept callin' Redfield his dad," he informed Wesker, frowning. He would've mentioned the red eyes, but Wesker had looked at them the moment he stepped over to the bed.

Wesker sighed. 

“I can't help him right now.” He gave Piers one of the shots and smoothed a band aid over the area. “Keep him strapped down – I'll be back as soon as I can be.” With that, his father stood up and headed for the door.

Piers watched him go, eyes blinking slowly.

"Hey!" Jake sat up quickly. "What did you just give him?" Hopefully something to stabilize this new red-eyed condition. Piers seemed calm now, but also in a daze.

“A tranquilizer,” Wesker said shortly. He turned back to Jake like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

The redhead looked at him grimly. 

"You really think Redfield can't take care of himself? If I can keep from chasin' after Sherry to keep Piers alive, you can do the same damned thing with him," he muttered, turning back to lean and check on Piers. 

Wasn't that the truth? Chris had chosen to leave on his own — and so had Sherry. He remembered her telling him she was leaving, so it wasn't like Chris had dragged her away or something. They must have had some kind of plan in leaving, he just had been too preoccupied with Piers to hear the rest.

“Have you ever seen a Licker?” Wesker said calmly, pacing back into the room and crossing his arms. “They crush skulls – even ones as thick as Chris's.” He looked down at Piers, a hint of sympathy behind his sunglasses. “I will not leave him to his own stupidity.”

Jake snorted and shook his head. 

"HOW many Lickers do you figure Redfield's managed to live through at this point, without your help? I mean, really, give the man some credit. He lived through fightin' YOU, and I'm pretty sure Lickers aren't much threat to you."

“He's also been stabbed in the back and hit in the head,” the blond held up two fingers sourly, “TWICE.” He paced a few steps back and forth, biting the tip of his thumb in thought. It was sort of surprising he was actually having any trouble deciding what to do, as the blond usually always went charging after Chris the moment he was out of sight. 

He stopped abruptly, spinning back to Jake. “Piers is stable enough.”

The redhead scowled at him. 

"To recover, or just to stay breathing 'til you're out of shouting range?"

Wesker tipped his head back slightly to glare down his nose at his son. He didn't seem to argue with the analogy, though. 

“What about Sherry and the baby?”

Jake stopped and stared at him. 

"Who the hell told you she's...?" He put a hand to his forehead and turned away quickly, muttering a few choice words under his breath. Fantastic. Not that Wesker looked to be going anywhere anytime soon, but he'd been hoping not to have to deal with worrying about any interest in their baby for awhile. With Sherry baggy hoodie outfit, her stomach was disguised somewhat at the moment.

“I found out from her blood sample. It's not rocket science, Jake.” The blond came back over to the bed, placing a hand on Piers' cheek tentatively. 

Piers had had his eyes closed and seemed to be sleeping – at least, until Wesker touched him. He forced his eyes open tiredly, looking up at the scientist.

“Dad?”

Wesker cocked his head curiously and patted the small man's head.

Jake turned to glance back at him, worry in his blue eyes despite his best effort to keep the expression off of his face. This whole situation was shot to hell. Sherry and Chris were out there with the Lickers, Wesker was too distracted by Chris to stop and actually work on curing Piers for more than a few minutes, and Piers was delirious. 

"That's not your dad, it's Wesker," he informed the small brunette, sticking his hands into his pockets and frowning down at him. At least he didn't seem to be in pain at the moment.

“Try to get some sleep,” Wesker said quietly, tugging the long abandoned blanket back up around Piers. He stood up straight and turned to face Jake once more. “You go deal with the Lickers. At least if they're all dead, they aren't hunting down Chris.” He gestured to Piers. “That's the deal.”

"I promised him I wouldn't leave him alone with you," Jake told him matter-of-factly. 

Wesker shrugged and headed towards the door.


	17. In Confidence

"For fuck's sake," Jake muttered, "You think playing knight in shining armor and lettin' Piers die is gonna make Redfield happy?" 

Was Piers that unstable? If he was well enough to just sleep, Jake didn't mind staying there with him and letting Wesker leave, but if the brunette stopped breathing again, or flatlined or some other craziness, he was sure it wouldn't end well.

“Enough. You're acting like a child,” Wesker hissed. “I am not interested in keeping Chris happy – I'm interested in keeping him ALIVE. The same goes for him.” He jabbed a finger in Piers' direction.

"Yeah, I noticed treating him like crap doesn't seem to to bother you," Jake replied flatly, crossing his arms. "Whatever. Sherry and Chris can handle themselves just fine. If you wanna keep the Lickers from going for them, make a lot of noise here and they'll come to you, genius."

He turned back to check on Piers again. It was almost compulsive — with the brunette so quiet, he felt he had to check and make sure he was still breathing.

Piers was laying completely still. He was pale, aside from the dark patches of skin, and looked very peaceful. Wesker shoved Jake aside and leaned back over Piers, listening carefully.

Jake made a little growl in annoyance, but only moved quickly to the other side of the bed to see Piers, too. He said nothing, watching the brunette silently for any sign of movement and waiting for Wesker to say or do something. Talking would just screw up the listening part.

His father placed a thumb on Piers' lip and then waited for a moment. 

“He's not breathing,” he said quietly, peeking at the brunette's eyes again. “Piers?” Patting his cheek, Wesker sat beside his patient and pressed his mouth to his. Piers' chest rose suddenly with the air pressure. Trying very hard to be gentle, Wesker started chest compressions.

Luckily, it didn't take much before the soldier breathed in sharply on his own, eyes fluttering open.

Jake grabbed the nearest of the brunette's hands and squeezed it. 

"Hey...Piers, can you hear me?" Now he was getting irritated with himself as well as Wesker. Here they had been standing around bickering and Piers could've died right there on the table!

Piers just stared at him for a long moment. 

Shaking his head, Wesker snagged the small case off the bed and reluctantly retreated to his card table. It must be worse then it seemed – and it seemed pretty bad.

“Jake, where's Sherry?” Piers asked quietly. He rolled his head to look over at the cot, blinking unevenly.

Jake pulled the blanket back up to cover his chest and patted it gently. 

"She's...I don't know," he admitted unhappily. "She and Redfield took off. I'm staying with you."

“With me? No...No, you need to go get her.” Piers twisted his hand in the straps to hold Jake's. “You can't choose me,” he said sadly, eyebrows pinching together over blood red eyes.

"Choose?" Jake's brows furrowed, too, at that. It sure sounded like he was talking about... "No, no. Sherry told me she was leaving — she's tough, she's gonna be fine," he said, placing his other hand over Piers'. "She wanted to stay with you, too, but it wasn't safe for her."

“What about the baby? You have to go get her!” Piers tried to sit up – but couldn't, so rolled halfway on to his side to face Jake better. “I couldn't live with myself if she got hurt because you were watching me!” He mustered up his best set of puppy eyes, but the effect was dimmed by the red glow.

"Redfield's right there with her," Jake promised, glancing at the wrist Piers was yanking on in order to roll half over. He reached and pressed on the brunette's chest, trying to get him to lay back down flat. "...They decided to leave — we've gotta trust that they have a good plan for where to go. Sherry's SMART, she wouldn't just run off and get herself killed." He was reassuring himself as much as Piers. "Trust me, I wanna run out there and find her, but I know she'd want me to stick with you, okay?"

“Why?” Piers demanded unhappily, refusing to lay back.

“Better question,” Wesker had appeared beside the bed out of nowhere, another syringe in hand. “Why are you so awake?”

Piers stared up at him with large eyes. 

“Wesker?!” He glanced back to Jake. “You're working with your dad?”

"I won't leave you alone with him," Jake assured him, glancing at Wesker with as neutral an expression as he could muster. He didn't want to work with Wesker. Really, if Piers' life wasn't on the line, he wouldn't have been trying this hard to get along. 

To the blond, Jake added grumpily, "That better not be another tranquilizer. The last one made him stop breathing."

“What do you expect? It was made for a tyrant – but it should have stayed in his system for a lot longer,” Wesker mumbled, coming over to Piers' side. He looked the short man over critically.

“Right. I remember now – you're not crazy anymore,” Piers growled, leaning away as much as he could.

Wesker frowned. 

“The treatment must have worked on some level then, or you wouldn't be awake right now.”

“Don't touch me,” the small soldier warned, eyeing Wesker suspiciously. 

Jake squeezed Piers' hand, which he had yet to let go of. 

"What's the new syringe for?" He asked, eyeing the needle in Wesker's hand.

The blond man looked at the syringe and then to Jake. 

“It's a tranquilizer.”

"He doesn't have to be knocked out," the redhead replied, frowning. "He's stopped breathing twice — I think it's better if he's a little hyper than not moving."

He squeezed Piers' hand again, glancing down at him. His eyes were still red.

With a dissatisfied growl, Wesker returned to his desk. He poked at his tablet for a minute and then got back up from his chair and made a beeline for the door. 

“I'll be back.”

"Fine," Jake grumbled. Not that Wesker was asking — he was already out the door. He turned to Piers again grimly. If he had any more breathing problems, CPR and slapping were about the only courses of action. The brunette had a tiny bit of a red mark from the first slap still. 

Piers was staring at him again, red eyes intently examining his face. 

“Thank you for staying with me. I don't think it's a good idea – but thank you anyways. I don't really want to be alone with Wesker right now.”

"I don't want that, either," Jake said flatly, frowning. He didn't like how Wesker pushed Piers around. If it was with the intent of saving his life, he could at least give that impression by not acting like a jerk. 

After what felt like a long pause, the redhead added quietly, "You do seem a little better." He looked at Piers' red eyes intently.

“I feel a little better too, but I don't remember...” Piers frowned and closed his eyes. “I have these big blank spaces and then little bits of memories that I'm not sure if they're real or not.” He opened his eyes again. “Did Wesker find out about the baby?”

A bit annoyed, Jake said, "Yeah. Blood sample."

Piers cringed. 

“And...CPR?”

Jake sighed and leaned one elbow on the bed, resting his chin on his hand. The other was still holding one of Piers' hands.

"Second time you stopped breathing, Wesker had to do CPR. The first time, I slapped you and you woke up," he admitted. "Sorry, your face's probably sore."

The shorter man blushed a little and shook his head. 

“Hey, you saved my life – a sore cheek is a small price to pay.” Piers seem to be normal again. No drugged eyes or confusion. Well. Less confusion.

His eyes were still red, though. Jake felt stupid for even thinking it, but he kind of missed Piers' regular eye color already. His gray eyes were...well, pretty.

"You also called Redfield your dad a couple times," he added glumly. Mentioning Chris just reminded him that Sherry was out there somewhere — and so were a bunch of Lickers. He was pretty sure Wesker was out there killing them right now, though. 

A cute smile spread across Piers' face as he laughed. 

“Dad? I guess that's not too far off of the mark.”

The laugh and smile were both so unexpected that Jake stared at him. He'd stopped denying to himself that he thought Piers was cute awhile ago, but he still didn't know what to do about it. He sure couldn't act on it. 

The smile faded away and was replaced with a sad frown. 

“Sorry, I just...I thought that was funny for some reason.” He lowered his eyes to stare across the room at the card table.

Jake squeezed his hand one more time before letting go and sitting up. 

"It is — you're a lot like him." He couldn't muster any laughs for Piers' benefit, though. He pulled off one of his gloves and felt the brunette's forehead gently. "How are you feeling?"

“I'm fine,” Piers said softly, looking up at him. He did that a lot. “The static is gone.” He finally laid back on the “bed” and sighed. “Did Wesker give me anything else?”

"Yeah. Three shots total," Jake said, frowning. "First that stupid suppressant, then the treatment stuff that made your eyes go red, and there was that tranquilizer that made you stop breathing. I don't think he knows what he's doing."

“My eyes are red?” The brunette asked in horror. “Why are my eyes red?”

Jake quickly put a hand on his chest in case he even tried to sit up again. 

"Easy. You freaked out after the second shot, the treatment one, and they changed to red in a couple of minutes," he explained, keeping his voice low. Hopefully Wesker took care of the Lickers, but it wasn't smart to just assume. 

“Where'd Wesker go? What did he do to me?” There was a hint of panic in Piers' voice as he strained to sit up and look around the room. He jerked on the straps and growled.

Jake took a seat on the edge of the bed again, shaking his head. 

"He didn't even tell me where he was going, he just said he'd be right back." He studied the brunette's frustrated expression and added more quietly, "Look, I bet the red eyes are temporary. Can you still see okay?" He leaned down and looked at Piers' eyes more closely, frowning. 

Piers was still busy struggling, and bumped his forehead on Jake's chin. 

“Oow – see, I can see.” He frowned and looked at Jake closely as well. Blinking, he laid back down. “Unstrap me.”

Sitting back a bit, Jake sighed. 

"Can't do that yet." He reached and picked up his jacket, which had been knocked aside, rolling it back up to place under Piers' head as a pillow again.

“I can't do this.” The smaller man yanked wholeheartedly on the straps – making them creak. He let Jake put the pillow under his head and sighed, relaxing again. “Please, Jake. I won't go anywhere-”

Before Jake could reply, Wesker came back into the room. He looked just like before. No dust. No blood or gore. He looked at Piers as he passed before sitting back down at his table.

Piers watched him nervously, biting his lip.

Jake glanced at his father as he passed, a bit surprised he'd actually come right back so quickly. He'd been sure Wesker was going to run off and locate Chris the moment he was out of this room. Was he actually prioritizing helping Piers?

Turning back to the brunette, Jake patted one of his hands. 

"I know it sucks, but you've gotta just rest and relax. Where would you go, anyway?"

“Nowhere!” Piers said, trying to keep his voice low. “I'll stay on the bed,” he promised, staring up at Jake with big hopeful eyes.

The redhead leaned down to whisper to him in hopes of Wesker not quite making out the conversation. 

"Then what difference does it make if the straps are there or not?" 

He already knew the answer, of course. Being tied up took all control of his own safety away from Piers — which meant he had to rely on Jake. Apparently he wasn't too keen on that idea.

“P-please don't...” Piers leaned back against the rolled up jacket, blushing. “Don't.”

Jake could have sworn he heard a chuckle just then from Wesker.

Jake realized abruptly both that the blushing was cute and that he must be the cause of it. Then right after that came the realization that Piers was afraid of HIM doing something. Maybe that was why he wanted the straps off. The redhead blinked and patted the smaller man's hand again. 

"I'm here so you're safe, even if you're tied down," he whispered, bothered by such a reaction. "I'm not gonna do anything."

Still squirming, Piers glanced in Wesker's direction. He was probably worried what the unnervingly quiet blond thought, too. 

“Come on. It's not like I'm raving mad.” He looked back up at Jake. “Even if I did flip out, I think you two could handle it.”

"How about if you ran off into the mall?" Jake arched a brow, dubious. "What if you started scratching your own face up again? I think Redfield had YOUR safety in mind when he said you should do this."

Despite his words, he kind of agreed with Piers. He didn't need to be strapped flat to the bed, at least — maybe leave one wrist secured, at least let him sit up or roll onto his side...

“I actually suggested it,” Wesker said suddenly, turning slowly in his chair to look at them. “But Sherry and Chris are no longer here.”

Piers sat up a little to look at Wesker. 

“So I can take them off?”

“Are you going to go insane and run away?”

Piers frowned deeply. 

“Depends on what you decide to shoot me up with.”

Wesker smirked. 

“How about another tranquilizer?”

The small brunette's eyes narrowed. 

“No thank you.”

Jake wasn't sure why it annoyed him so much that Wesker interrupted the conversation, but it did. It wasn't like he'd forgotten that the blond man was in the room...it was just that he and Piers had been talking in whispers, and the conversation had felt one-on-one until Wesker reminded them of his presence. 

Stepping around the bed, he reached and unfastened the strap on Piers' left wrist — then held onto his hand and examined it for any marks. 

"How about we just leave one on? Could tie one of your ankles, even, and leave your hands so you can sit up."

“Or just around your neck,” Wesker mumbled, turning back to his work.

“Um, no?” Piers said, casting a glare at the blond man's back. “Around my ankle would work I guess. At least I could feed myself,” he added shyly, cringing at the memory of Jake hand feeding him.

Remembering the same thing, the redhead carefully avoided his eyes as he placed Piers' freed hand onto his chest. He unfastened the strap that had been holding his wrist and went to attach it to the brunette's ankle instead. 

Piers took the opportunity to rub his sore arms, grimacing. 

“Thanks.” He watched Jake strap his ankle down and sighed. “I'll try not to claw at you.”

“You should get some rest,” Wesker said thoughtfully. “This is going to take some time and you haven't slept very much in the last two days.”

“Is that concern I hear?” Piers asked wryly, sitting up.

Wesker glanced back at him and frowned. After a moment of thought, he turned back away. Piers frowned too.

Returning to the side of the bed, Jake sat down beside Piers again, looking at his wrists for any sign of damage. They had some red marks; not surprising, with all of the struggling he'd been doing. 

He turned his blue eyes on Piers' red ones next, studying them. Besides the red eyes, he really did look like he was doing much better. He was awfully pale, though.

Piers glanced slowly at him, eyebrow quirked. He still seemed puzzled by Wesker's reaction but more than a little relieved to have the use of his hands again. Matching his wrists, Jake could make out the slight red mark on Piers' cheek from where he had slapped him before. 

“Please tell me I still only have two eyes.”

Very solemnly, Jake gripped his chin and turned his face to examine it. 

After a long moment, he confirmed, "Looks that way." He couldn't help looking at the little red mark on Piers' cheek, and frowned the tiniest bit. 

The guy really had had it rough lately. He was lucky he wasn't dead, or some horrible mutated monster by now. And of all the people Jake had to form some weird attachment to, it was the guy who they still weren't even sure whether they could cure...

Not that he planned to do anything. But he couldn't pretend that Piers dying or going crazy for good wouldn't affect him.

Staring right back at him, Piers didn't seem to be protesting Jake's examination. Despite being blood red, his eyes still had dark eyelashes around them. He blinked a few times, scanning Jake shyly now that he was closer.

Wesker cleared his throat. 

“Jake. I need another blood sample – come here.”

The redhead glanced that way, his frown deepening. He exchanged one last look with Piers — possibly a little exasperated — and then sat back and got to his feet. 

"Yeah, okay. You figure out why his eyes turned red yet?" He stepped over to Wesker's little table setup, rolling up one of his sleeves as he went. 

Wesker grabbed his arm and yanked him down closer, hissing between his teeth. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jake was actually taken aback by that. Wesker had moved so fast he hadn't anticipated it — and that was something he was not used to. 

Still, he scowled and whispered back, "Is this a trick question or something?"

The blond nodded to Piers. 

“Leave him alone.” He let go of Jake's arm, stood up and grabbed an empty syringe off of the table. “Sit.”

His son made no move to do so, though, crossing his arms instead. 

"You don't own him," he said flatly, still keeping his voice low. "And I sure as hell don't have to listen to you." Was Wesker that possessive about Piers, really?

Wesker stepped uncomfortably close to Jake, leaning in. 

“You don't, either.” He took the redhead's arm sharply. “You have Sherry. Or did you forget?” His dad asked sourly, sliding the needle into his arm.

To his credit, Jake only gritted his teeth and made no move to pull his arm away. He wanted to make some heated remark about how Wesker had no right to so much as talk about Sherry, but he was too busy realizing that Wesker thought he and Piers had something going on that might equate cheating. 

"That's none of your business," he informed his father in a whisper, glancing down at the needle. "Besides curing him, PIERS is none of your business, either. You treat him like crap, since when do you have a right to decide who should stay away from him?"

“Every time I leave, he's looks upset when I return. Crying...terrified,” Wesker said calmly, removing the needle from Jake's arm. He sat the needle aside to look at his son thoughtfully. “You hurt him again – you'll answer to me.”

Piers sat up in bed, listening to their hushed conversation from across the room. He looked worried.

Jake pressed two fingers on the bleeding spot the needle left almost automatically, shooting Wesker a scowl. 

"Are you kiddin' me? I wouldn't hurt him — I'm keeping YOU from hurting him!" He hissed. "Did it ever occur to you that he's going through a bunch of shit and you acting like an asshole is the problem?"

Wesker raised a finger to point at Jake's nose, teeth clenched. He was about to say something, but relaxed a little and shook his head. 

“I saw him earlier. Clearly, I'm not the only asshole around here.” The blond man growled and plunked back onto his chair, snagging his tablet again.

Wesker's patient watched this with sad eyebrows, glancing between the two. He was probably assuming the worst.

Jake made a little growl of frustration that sounded nearly identical to his father's, turned on his heel, and stormed back across the room to Piers' bedside. Whatever. Bickering with the man was a waste of time, and he still didn't feel right leaving Piers alone, even just across the room.

Piers stared at him expectantly. 

“So?”

Jake looked at him, trying very hard not to continue scowling. It wasn't like he wanted to explain to Piers exactly what the conversation had just been about. 

"He's got his sample, he's workin' on it," he said begrudgingly, sitting on the edge of the bed again. He crossed his arms, glancing down at the one with the rolled-up sleeve and the needle mark still bleeding sluggishly. He wondered where Sherry was right now. Hopefully somewhere safe.  


* * *

  
“Yep. That's daylight,” Leon commented, leaning on the large metal grate that blocked their way out. 

He and Sherry could slide through, but Chris...

“Hang here for a second, I'll be right back,” the blond man said, slipping through the bars with ease.

“Please hurry – everyone's probably worried,” Sherry called after him. She turned to Chris as soon as Leon was out of earshot and smiled tightly, tucking her hands into her pockets. “So...this place smells terrible.” She looked around slowly, nodding.

"Too bad we couldn't take shelter somewhere with a working shower sometime," Chris joked tiredly, leaning against the wall. He looked at the blond thoughtfully. She was good at staying positive in trying situations, something he was pretty sure she'd been taught by Claire. She had to be worried about Jake, though, and Piers. 

He was definitely worried about Piers. That, and where the hell Wesker had disappeared to. 

“Chris...um,” Sherry stammered, shifting her eyes from him to the ground. “About Piers.”

The brunette glance down at her wearily. 

"Yeah?" Something about her tone worried him.

“Well, he's gay right?” She asked nicely. The little blond checked to make sure Leon was still gone and stepped closer to Chris.

"I'm pretty sure, although we've never really talked about it," Chris admitted, blinking. "Why?" She clearly didn't have any objections to that, so why was she bringing it up?

“I don't know!” She sighed and hung her head. “It's just...I know I'm going to sound so stupid, but I think he might like Jake.” Sherry looked at Chris and shrugged. “I'm worried what Jake'll do if he finds out.” Placing a blood covered hand on her head, she sighed. 

Chris turned toward her more and moved her hand away, looking at it worriedly. It wasn't any of her blood, was it? 

"Jake's taking care of him," he sighed. "And Piers has been through a lot. I-I think it's normal to get attached to somebody who's helping you."

He had to wonder if that attachment WAS romantic, though. He'd never actually seen Piers in any romantic situation — love lives and being soldiers tended to stay separate. 

“You've seen how Piers looks at him. Come on,” she grumbled. The short woman stared down at her hand. “But it gets worse.”

Chris leaned back against the wall, a troubled look on his face. He mostly remembered Piers looking intimidated by Wesker. When Jake was around, he tended to notice the redhead's protective behavior more — and the way HE looked at Piers. Not necessarily romantic, but Jake didn't bother with being that concerned about anybody except Sherry, usually.

"How does it get worse?" He asked, figuring he should at least hear the blond out. 

“When Piers first got to the old base, I got to sit and talk to him for awhile. He's really sweet and cool and awesome.” She smiled while she spoke. “We really hit it off.” She cringed and looked up at him, eyes sad. “So, I kind of don't mind. Is that weird?” 

Chris smiled, too, a bit sadly. 

"He's a really good person, Sherry. I don't think it's weird...thank you for being so kind to him." 

Now he was worried about Piers all over again. If he had feelings for Jake, he would never let himself act on them. Chris knew better than anybody that the brunette was the type to sacrifice himself for the sake of others.

“No, no.” She rubbed her forehead, smearing Licker blood there. “I want JAKE to like him too!” Sherry clasped her hands together. “I just don't know how to...do that.”

Trying to process that, Chris picked up one end of her scarf and wiped her forehead off with it. He offered it to wipe her hands with as well.

"That...seems like something to discuss with Jake," he said carefully, bemused. "Uh. Wait, you mean you want Piers to be with Jake AND you?"

“Yeah,” she said meekly. “Well, not with me like – you know, I just want him as part of our relationship. I-I don't mean just for sex. Like...Jake's other wife or something.” Sherry groaned. “Oh my god. This sounds so stupid out loud. Jake's gonna flip-” She suddenly grabbed Chris's arm. “Please don't tell him! I don't want him to think that I have a crush on Piers.”

The muscular man held up both hands quickly. 

"Everything we're talking about is in confidence!" 

Wow, way to drop a bomb on his head. He wasn't sure what to do with this new bit of information, but apparently Sherry was okay with sharing Jake with somebody else. Piers, with Piers. 

Jake wasn't big on sharing Sherry with anybody, though, so he had to wonder how well the guy would even take suggesting the two of them weren't absolutely exclusive with each other. Great, now he was wondering if Jake liked Piers. Or if Piers actually liked Jake, or was just...well, very ill and in need of somebody to take care of him.

“Found a tire iron!” Leon said happily as he returned to the grate. He shoved the large bar through the grate and leaned to twist it. He grimaced with effort. “Okay. Not working.” He tried a few more time before dropping the tire iron on the floor. Panting, he waved a hand. “I'll go, uh, get that tow truck.” With a sigh, he turned and headed back out of the tunnel.

Sherry stood there, staring after him. 

“Anyway.” She turned back to Chris sadly. “Thanks for listening to me ramble. I guess I'll talk to Jake about it and just see what happens.” She frowned and hugged herself.

Chris felt a little bad for not having any better advice for her.

“I wouldn't just tell Jake the way you told me,” he said quietly. “Ask him what he thinks of Piers — kind of feel it out first. You should probably do the same thing with Piers, if you can get a minute to talk without Jake around.” 

He wasn't sure how either of them would react to a request for a three-person relationship. HE certainly wouldn't be comfortable with something like that — chances were that even if one of them was okay with it, the other would just find it weird. His bet was on Jake having trouble with the idea.

Who was Chris to give relationship advice, though? He hadn't been in what he would call an actual relationship since before Raccoon City. Thinking about that was pretty sad.

She looked back up at him and smiled softly. 

“Thanks.” Sherry came closer and gave him a hug. “I'll try to be subtle – but it's not really my thing.” The small blond chuckled. She patted his back. “But you're right – how in the world am I gonna separate the two? Yikes.”

Chris put an arm around her and patted her back. Thanks to all the years of hearing about her from his sister, Sherry was almost like a little sister or niece to him. 

"I could always try to distract one of them," he offered, half-jokingly. It would be easy to pull Piers aside and get Jake to follow Sherry away — the opposite was the tough part.

“Aww, you'd do that for me?” Sherry asked cheekily, beaming a smile up at him. 

There was a loud clanking sound as Leon slung the winch inside. He knelt down and looped it back out, hooking it tightly around the bars. “Alright you two – stay back and get ready to run for the car. It's that way.” He pointed off behind him and to the left.

Sherry let go of Chris and nodded to Leon. 

“Okay!”

The brunette took a step back, reaching a hand in front of Sherry to get her to move back, too. 

"Be careful, Leon," he called, frowning. They had been whispering to keep the Lickers from showing up, but all of that clanking was loud...

“Yeah, there are a lot zombies wandering around out here.” The blond man added as he disappeared back outside. After a moment the wench pulled tight, and then the grating creaked before finally snapping free and dragging outside.

Cringing at the noise, Sherry glanced around. 

“Let's go.”

Chris stepped forward quickly, but did take the time to glance around as he stepped outside. Once he'd gotten a quick look at where any surrounding undead were — and Leon wasn't kidding, there were lots — he waved Sherry after him and started down the hill. 

"Come on!"

The petite woman dashed after him, keeping lookout as she went. 

Leon was just down the hill, leaned against a large tow truck, pistol aimed behind Chris and Sherry in case they were followed. The sky was heavy looking. Dark stormy clouds rolled past overhead while wind played with the ruined bits of newspaper at their feet. Several zombies looked their way as they moved, drooling and starting toward them at slow stagger. They really needed to get back to the mall quickly.

Leon moved out of the way of the door to let Sherry hop in.

Chris was already in the driver's seat at that point, and scanning the area beyond the grate for which direction the mall was in. "It's pretty dark out here..." 

Leon hopped in beside Sherry and leaned on the dash. 

“We need to circle around to the left. I guess we ended up on a lower street somehow.” He pointed as he spoke. “It's not that far, I saw it when I was grabbing this truck.”

A zombie stumbled into the view of the headlights, tongue hanging limp out of its cheek.

“I hope Claire's okay,” Sherry said quietly. It was more to herself than anything. 

“Claire's dealt with Lickers before,” Leon assured her, scooting back against the seat.

"With any luck, all the noise we made distracted them away from the other safe house," Chris said, sighing a little. He swerved around the zombie — it was a slow one, but he still sped past in case it lunged at the driver's side window. The sky was looking kind of ominous. He could see a few raindrops pelting the walking corpses around them already.

“We did fall through the floor...and fire guns,” Sherry mumbled, watching the zombie as it passed.

Rain started to speckle the windshield harder and Leon glanced outside. 

“It's sort of weird we only saw one...there were five others.” He frowned and looked at Sherry, realizing that his comment wasn't exactly reassuring. “But you know – they're probably just wandering around lost in the sewers now.” The ex-agent laughed nervously.

Sherry just frowned.

"Maybe they heard something else," Chris offered, flicking on the windshield wipers as well. Through the open side window, the air felt hot and humid. Thunder weather. "Maybe the rain confuses their hearing. Who knows?"

He was curious how the Lickers had known to come to the mall in the first place. Did they just wander until they heard something that sounded tasty?

As they circled around on the road back towards the mall, the sky finally let loose – dumping rain loudly on top of their truck. The sprawling mall was several blocks away. They HAD walked for what seemed like forever in the sewers, twisting and turning. But the road was fairly clear, so it wouldn't take more than five minutes or so to get back.


	18. Pretty Hopeless

In the rear view mirror, Chris could see a few zombies make it to the road as the truck passed by. They would probably follow them back to the mall.

"We're bringing back some uninvited guests." He nodded at the rear view mirror for Leon to see, too. "And we can't just run inside — the Lickers are still in there, remember."

“You have a good point – but we can't stay outside.” Leon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What about the roof? We could take the stairs up the back by the dumpster and find that hole.” He shrugged. “We can't exactly rattle the front gate.”

“The Lickers are probably inside now,” Sherry added. “I think Chris is right – the sound of the rain would confuse them.”

Leon nodded in agreement. 

“And the stairs will slow the zombies down.”

"Roof it is." Chris revved the engine, pulling forward a little just to put some distance between them and the zombies. They were already turning into the big parking lot surrounding the mall.

“God I hope Jake and Piers are okay,” Sherry said, leaning around Leon to squint at the mall. The blond man glanced at it too.

Aside from a few zombies milling around outside the main gate, the mall seemed quiet.

Chris couldn't really offer much reassurance there. Sherry knew how tough Jake was just as well as he did, but they also both knew that the redhead was too protective to leave Piers if any Lickers got into the room, even if the room got overrun. 

Hopefully that was just worrying. Hopefully the episode Piers had been going through was over, and the noise Chris and Sherry made while leaving had drawn the nasty creatures away from them.

"Everybody ready to move?" He asked, pulling the car up alongside the mall entrance and cruising along to find a good place to stop. "I think the fire escape is the quickest way up."

Leon leaned over Sherry next to him, pointing to a set of large concrete steps by the dumpster. 

“Those might be quieter, but I guess both would work. The rain should cover our footsteps for the most part.”

“Can we hurry please? I really want to check on Jake.”

"Sherry, we have to be very careful about how we go back inside," Chris told her grimly. "The Lickers are still on the loose in there." He glanced behind them to check on how far away the zombies were trailing. The shambling figures were perhaps fifty feet back, one occasionally darting forward or stumbling to fall on its rotten face.

Pulling the truck up alongside the concrete steps, he hopped out, leaving the engine running to keep the headlights on. The rain was pounding down on the roof of the vehicle by now, and the moment he was outside he had been soaked. Still, he waited for Leon and Sherry before heading for the roof. "C'mon!"

The two blonds hurried after him, pistols drawn. First up the steps, Leon quickly found out that they were slightly slippery and slowed down. 

“Careful,” he warned Sherry, slowing down to keep a hand on her back in case she fell. 

There were three flights of stairs to climb and a small crowd of zombies closing from behind, but slippery steps would slow them down even more. 

Rain poured into Chris's eyes, and he heard a grumble of thunder above the mall.

With a glance upward, Chris frowned and ducked back into the tow truck — killing the engine at last. It was troublesome not being able to see the zombies, but much worse not to be able to hear where they were. 

He followed Sherry up the steps after that, keeping one hand against the wall for balance and one near the young woman's back. If she slipped, he'd rather help break her fall than stay perfectly safe, himself. 

"Move steady, but don't rush and slip," he said quietly. The thunder and rain were mingling with the zombies' groans, and it brought back unpleasant memories. 

“I don't want to hurt the baby either, guys,” Sherry grumbled, holding tightly onto the wet railing as she went. It took what felt like forever to reach the top floor, but when they did it was a wide open gray parking lot that was completely devoid of cars. 

There was also standing water. Leon splashed through a few steps and paused to wait for the other two. 

“Chris, look.”

The muscular man swiped rainwater out of his eyes and paused at the edge of the roof, looking where Leon was pointing. He still kept his other hand hovering near Sherry, as if she might topple to the side at any moment.

There was a large hole in the roof – and laying around it were the other Lickers. Their bodies were smashed and mangled, some with their tongues removed and laying nearby. Five in total, or so Chris guessed from the pieces.

“Whoa,” Sherry gasped, looking around at them all. “That's nasty and awesome all at the same time.”

Chris climbed up onto the roof and stood up straight, getting a better look at the kind of wounds on the creatures. 

"Wesker," he concluded, blinking. Well...he'd found the hole in the roof after all, apparently. Or made one of his own. 

Leon looked behind them and shrugged. 

“Remind me to thank him – we better go inside.” He led Sherry along gently toward the hole. “Hopefully everyone else is okay, then.” They were both soaked through and through like Chris. None of them had been dressed for the weather when they fell into the sewers. At least the rain had washed the blood and other gross things off.

“I hope Jake can do that too,” Sherry said happily, looking at the dead Lickers with surprising approval.

If Wesker had killed them all, then it was very unlikely that the creatures had hurt Jake and Piers. That was what Chris gathered from her reaction. He had to agree, too — if some of them had to be not-quite-human, at least they were able to use those abilities to help themselves and the others. He was still getting used to the idea of Wesker helping anybody.

"Hopefully that was all of them," he said, glancing back over the edge of the roof. Zombies could be counted on for one thing, always: they were relentless. The stupid, clumsy things were stumbling, some falling off of the roof, but they were still following them.

Leon looked back at him, hair slapping against his cheek. 

“Come on Chris – we'll deal with them later. We need to get Sherry inside.”

“Sherry has a pistol!” Sherry added happily. 

Chris shot the zombies one last wary look before stepping after Leon and Sherry. 

"They aren't worth the bullet. C'mon, let's get inside and find some dry clothes," he told the blond. 

He was realizing that placing the focus on Sherry only annoyed her. Better just to talk like he was concerned for all of them.

Going through the hole was pretty easy. There were a lot of broken sections leading to the top floor. Leon went first, helping Sherry down after him. She stepped aside and he waited for Chris.

“I have to ask,” he cringed and stared up at Chris. “Did you tell Wesker about the baby?”

"I didn't have to," Chris admitted, carefully finding a handhold before lowering himself down. At least the rain was warm, so his fingers didn't feel too numb. "He figured it out on his own."

“From the blood samples,” Sherry said grimly. She hugged herself and turned away.

Leon glanced her direction and then back to Chris. 

“I don't think that's a good thing.”

"It was gonna happen sooner or later anyway," the brunette said tiredly. "Wesker's smart...and he's not going anywhere any time soon." 

He hoped. Wesker seemed pretty attached to him, but at the same time, he kept leaving without explaining where he was going.

“Have you, um, bargained with him yet?” Leon asked with a cringe.

“Bargained?” Sherry spun back around. “About what? The baby?”

“No, Sherry.” Leon waved a hand to her and shook his head apologetically. “Unrelated.”

She seemed to accept his answer, wrapping her arms back around her and nervously looking around.

Running his fingers through his wet hair, Chris shook his head awkwardly. Leon still thought he was with Wesker as some kind of deal to spare the others, apparently. 

"Lately I'm too busy getting hit in the head," he joked, hoping to divert attention away from just what Leon was implying. Great, now Sherry would probably think the same thing.

The little blond woman didn't seem to be listening to them at all, though. She was too busy watching the area around them...probably for signs of Wesker.

“You really need to stop doing that,” Leon said playfully back. Good. He caught the hint. The blond man went over to Sherry's side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She still flinched. “Hey. Let's go find some dry clothes. We're on the other side of the mall – isn't there a PC Jenny's around here?”

Sherry stared up at him with large blue eyes and nodded. 

“Yeah. Jake said he and Piers went there earlier.”

Chris stepped past them and headed to the middle of the mall floor, looking around. 

"There." He nodded toward the store the moment he spotted it. It did look like somebody had been in there recently — some of the racks had been knocked over, ruining the pristine state the place was probably closed in when the mall was locked up.

He started that way. Now every time Sherry mentioned Jake and Piers together, he paid attention to what she was saying about them. The two had been together almost nonstop since Piers was found again, he realized. Jake was even the one who had brought him back.

The blonds followed him quietly. Each one was concerned about something, it seemed. Leon checked behind them to make sure they weren't being followed, while Sherry seemed to be in a daze over Wesker.

Great.

A familiar pair of white scrubs laid in the middle of an aisle. Hadn't Piers been wearing those?

Chris paused to look at them, processing what that meant. Piers and Jake hadn't just gone to find clothes together...Piers had actually changed clothes right there in the store. With Jake around, presumably. 

“Hey, this should fit you.” Leon pulled a ladies' hiking jacket off of a rack and showed it to Sherry. It was baby blue with a plush white lining.

Sherry took it and nodded, finally looking around the store at all the clothes. 

“I'll be right back – I'm going to find some dry pants,” she told them both, slipping away into the store. 

Leon watched her go, calling after her, “Don't go too far.”

“I'm not as blond as you!” She called back jokingly.

Leon smirked and rummaged for dry clothes.

Glad that he seemed to be the only one to notice the scrubs pants, Chris kicked them aside as he stepped past. He wasn't very good at being subtle; luckily, neither Leon or Sherry was watching at the time. 

Clothes... He looked at the racks of clothing blankly, wondering what to wear. It had been a long time since he'd thought about clothing for what it looked like, or how comfortable it was — everything he wore usually served some tactical purpose, and he'd gotten used to sleeping with his gun holster and knife sheath on. 

Deciding that finding something that fit was a decent start, he headed off to locate anything in his size and go from there.

Leon followed him toward the men's section, but veered off into an aisle full of button ups and vests. Unstrapping his holster, he unhappily took off his shirt – revealing a massive bruise that stretched down his entire right side, armpit to hip. He hurried to put on another shirt – a dark red button up – muttering under his breath.

Even though vests and button ups were things he was pretty sure he'd rip in half just by wearing, Chris headed into that aisle as well, and half-heartedly pretended to look through the racks there. 

"That was Wesker, right?" He glanced at Leon after a moment, brown eyes moving from his face to his side in concern. Wesker HAD mentioned having to use force, but he was impressed that Leon had still been moving around as much as he had without wincing too noticeably or anything. And here everybody had been fussing about HIM every time he got sleepy or bumped his head. 

“Yeah. I just love him being around,” the blond man grumbled, turning away from Chris to button up his shirt. “But nothing’s broken.” He ran a hand through his hair and faced Chris again, gesturing to the vest rack. “I didn't think this was your style.”

Chris sighed and leaned against the nearest wall. 

"I don't really know what is anymore." He was still looking at his friend with a mixture of weariness and concern. 

What was he supposed to do? He wanted to believe that Wesker didn't intend to do that much damage, but the truth was that the blond didn't show much care for the lives of anybody but him and possibly Piers. He still wasn't sure why Wesker even cared about Piers.

“Hey.” Leon patted Chris's arm. “Don't worry about me – I sort of had it coming.” He forced a small smile and picked through the vests. After a few seconds, he leaned on the rack and faced Chris again. “Look, I'm sorry about all the poking and prodding about you two. He just doesn't listen or care about anything when you aren't around. You know?” The bond man cringed. “He's very obsessed.”

"Tell me something I don't know," Chris sighed. "I'm sorry. This..." He looked at the floor and smiled sadly. "This's crazy. I'm probably crazy. Look at me — I'm with WESKER." He put a hand over his face, laughing faintly at just how bizarre that really sounded. 

Wesker was still the man he'd always been — Uroboros had made him crazy for awhile, but it couldn't be blamed for all of the horrible things that he'd done. How could he have feelings for someone like that? He couldn't find any reasonable answer, but that was how it was.

“Do you actually like him?” Leon asked honestly. “You...seem to.” He looked at Chris very curiously and tilted his head. “Do you love him?”

“Hey, you two stay where you are – I'm changing,” Sherry called casually from somewhere off in the store.

“No problem,” Leon replied automatically, eyes still locked on Chris.

The brunette looked at him quietly for a moment. 

"I'm not sure 'love' is what you'd call it," he said honestly, keeping his voice low. "But it's not just bargaining, either." He looked down at the floor, frowning. He wasn't exactly in this arrangement against his will. He was the one who'd gone and followed Wesker when he left.

“I thought so,” Leon said, also looking down at the floor. “It's like me and Ada. I just like her. I can't explain it.” He shrugged. “She runs off all of the time, calls me stupid and teases me with a bunch of stuff I just don't get.” The blond rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “It's really dangerous and annoying, but I keep chasing after her anyway.”

Chris glanced at him and smiled bitterly. 

"Yeah, it's kind of like that. We're both pretty hopeless, huh?" He sat up and patted Leon's shoulder — careful not to touch the bruised one. "Thanks, Leon. We'd better find some more clothes before Sherry leaves without us," he said, a bit sheepishly. 

Leon placed his hand on Chris's shoulder in return, growing serious. 

“We need to check on the others, too.”  


* * *

  
Wesker's pacing was clearly starting to bother Piers. The small brunette's eyes would follow him as he went slowly back and forth across the room. The sound of the tall man's boots had long since become background noise.

He would pause now and then to work on his tablet, but then he would pace again.

Jake wasn't helping break the silence any. He was still sitting on the edge of the "bed", and though he had eventually turned around, he hadn't looked at Piers or said anything to him since giving Wesker the blood sample. Whatever the whispered conversation with his father had been about, clearly it had irked them both.

Piers watched Wesker pace again. When was Chris coming back? Was he okay? They just took off and obviously Wesker was concerned – shouldn't he be? The tall blond settled into his chair once more.

He still felt weak. And more than a little sick. His head would randomly throb, then his eyes would burn...then his stomach. Arms. Legs. All over. At first, he was worried he was turning – but he didn't. So why complain? That might just land him back in straps...

He looked at Jake's back instead. The whole situation sucked. Jake should have followed Sherry. It wasn't just her on the line, it was their baby. Their future. The brunette sat up from where he had been laying, pushing the blanket down.

Shyly, Piers placed a hand on Jake's shoulder. 

“Hey.”

The redhead glanced at him quickly, still frowning but obviously checking to see if he wasn't feeling well. When the glance confirmed that Piers looked alright, Jake slowly turned toward him and uncrossed his arms. 

"Need me to get something?"

Now that Piers was out of his blanket, he felt cold. The temperature in the room had dropped. It was probably night. Wesker had managed to pick a room with no windows, so it was hard to tell. The napping didn't help either; he felt completely out of sync with normal time.

He slipped back down into the covers.

“Do we have any more water?” Piers asked quietly. “Maybe another muffin?” He added hopefully, staring up at Jake.

The redhead studied his red eyes for a moment, and the frown faded somewhat. 

"I'll check," he said, hopping off of the bed and circling to pick up the box and place it on the bed. 

He could've handed it to Piers, but he didn't — instead he rummaged until he found another small water bottle, turning and offering it to the brunette. It was like he wanted to do things for Piers. Was that being nice, or not wanting Piers to have control of anything? 

“Thank you.” Piers took it and sat up on his elbows to sip it. He gritted his teeth suddenly, glaring out into the room. “Seriously? Just stop. Please. I'm begging you,” he said sadly, taking another sip.

Wesker sat back down in his chair again.

“Thank you.” Piers sighed.

Jake dug in the box for any sign of another blueberry muffin, trying to hide his surprise. Wesker had actually stopped pacing when Piers asked him to. That plus the conversation he'd just had with the blond were leaving him confused. He'd thought Piers was afraid of Wesker, but it looked like Wesker thought Piers was afraid of JAKE...

He sighed, too. Sherry and Chris had been gone a long time. If they'd reached the other safe house, they would have radioed. 

Finding the muffin he'd been searching for, the redhead held it up and examined it unhappily. Sherry was the one who got him to feed Piers the last one. He carefully unwrapped the pastry, turning and offering it to the sniper silently. 

“You found one. Thanks.” Piers took it, rolling it nervously between his hands. He glanced over at Wesker and then at Jake. “You two need to go find them.”

Wesker stood up from his chair.

"I'm not leavin' you here alone," Jake said promptly, frowning. He wondered if Wesker was really much problem to leave Piers alone with, if the man was apparently keeping an eye on others who might be a threat — like him. Still, Sherry was armed and could handle herself in a fight, and Piers was...well, shackled to his bed.

“The first treatment from your blood is almost complete,” Wesker said, coming over to loom over them. “When it buzzes, it can be administered. 8 milliliters exactly.” He turned on his heel and headed out the door.

Piers watched him go. 

“He wants YOU to inject me?”

"Sure, then he can try blaming me if it doesn't work," Jake grumbled, standing up. He glanced over at the table and tablet. Messing with Wesker's lab stuff seemed a little too much like trying to act like him, but he could give Piers an injection — it wasn't rocket science. 

He stepped over and closed the door after Wesker, then returned to sit next to Piers without comment. 

Piers suddenly felt uncomfortable. They were alone. He sank back down into his blankets and remained quiet, trying to look anywhere but at Jake.

Unfortunately, him laying back down only drew Jake's attention. The redhead turned and pulled off one of his gloves, reaching to feel Piers' forehead. Fever was one of the only signs that an episode was about to happen.

Piers shrank more, tucking his nose under the edge of his blanket. What was he supposed to say? What could he possibly say to Jake? Whatever he and Wesker had discussed was undoubtedly about him. Maybe the cure wasn't possible? Maybe he was doomed to be a J'avo.

Maybe Wesker had told him about Piers? The brunette closed his eyes. If that was true, no wonder Jake was being quiet. He probably didn't know what to say either.

The redhead sat back a little, noticing him shrinking away from his hands. 

"I'm not gonna do anything," he told Piers, sounding perhaps a bit bothered that he had to declare it. "Just seeing if you have a fever."

Red eyes glanced up at him nervously. 

“I'm just cold,” Piers managed. “What'd you guys talk about? Earlier.” He nodded toward Wesker's table.

Jake did indeed look troubled. A little annoyed, but Piers was beginning to realize that scowling didn't always mean he was angry. 

"You," he admitted, looking the brunette in the eyes again. "Why do you do that?"

“Why do I...?” Piers squinted at him, sitting up out of his covers again. “Do what?”

They WERE talking about him. Of course.

Jake started to reach his hands out, like Piers was going to try to jump off the bed and he might have to catch him by the shoulders. When the brunette only sat up, though, he lowered his hands.

"That, from a minute ago. You cringe and tell me not to get near you," he grumbled. "What're you afraid I'll do, exactly? I'm not gonna hurt you. I thought I made it pretty clear I'm hangin' around to make sure you're safe from Wesker."

The smaller man frowned firmly. 

“Hurt me?” Jake hadn't once tried to hurt him, what in the world... “I-I'm not worried about you h-hurting me, Jake.” Being upset about something didn't count, he thought, staring at his caretaker. “I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. I've been a little out of it.”

"Okay, fine. It's because I look like Wesker, isn't it?" Jake asked next, studying his expression. "Do I scare you?" He was genuinely bothered that Piers might be afraid of him. Maybe Wesker was wrong, though. Or Piers was just associating him WITH Wesker...

Piers' frown shifted to puzzlement. 

“Well, not in...not like... Yeah, I guess.” The soldier shifted on the bed. He did not like the way this conversation was going, but it could have been worse. It could have been about his feelings for Jake.

Dealing with crushes on the field was simple – focus on your mission. But here, there was no mission to follow. It was just survive…and hopefully not screw up other people's lives in the process.

He diverted his gaze to across the room. When was that thing going to buzz?

Jake sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. 

"Look...sorry about that. I know things have been rough, and you might look okay right now, but you're still really sick." 

He held up his hands, one gloved and one bare, and shrugged. "This doesn't have to be one of the things you worry about, though, okay? You can relax around me, I'm not my...father." He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the bed. And he'd sworn he'd never call Wesker that.

“You know when I told you earlier that he wasn't as crazy as he seems?” Piers asked, putting a hand out to pat Jake's arm. “I meant it. He's not crazy.” He shrugged a shoulder. “But he's still pretty scary. You two are the only reason I'm alive right now,” the small man added sadly. “So thank you for taking care of me.”

Jake's blue eyes were trained on the hand on his arm instantly. He placed his gloved hand over it and looked up at Piers, bothered by the comparison to Wesker all over again. Not his favorite subject ever.

"Just don't lump me in with him. You're a good guy — a damn good sniper, too. At least Wesker's doing something right for once, keeping you alive," he said quietly. 

'Good guy'? What was that supposed to mean? He was trying to say what he wanted to say while staying vague about it. Piers was beyond 'good' — words like 'awesome' and 'sweet' and 'adorable' seemed more fitting. But those would be very hard to explain away.

“You guys talked about me earlier...is there something wrong with the cure?” Piers asked nervously, unable to meet Jake's eyes. “It doesn't work, does it?”

Jake smiled at that. Well, at least that proved that Piers hadn't actually overheard any of that conversation. Piers' nervousness was just so damn endearing, it was hard not to lighten up. Jake sat up and picked the sniper's hand off of his arm, patting it.

"Hey. This dose is made from samples from Sherry and me, not Wesker. If anything can cure J'avo, my blood is gonna be it," he promised.

Piers breathed a sigh of relief, nodding to Jake. 

“Man, I hope so.” He stared at the hand that Jake was holding. “Thanks for being here. I-I've probably said that before, but in case I didn't...thank you. I know you're not your dad. From what I can tell, though, you have his few good qualities.”

Jake made no move to retrieve his hand. In fact, he was doing a pretty job of pretending he'd forgotten that Piers was holding it, if he did say so himself. 

He felt like he should say something after Piers commented on good qualities he had, but he only nodded a little and looked down. He should do something. Had Wesker found Sherry and Chris yet? Piers had said he was cold...

Abruptly, the redhead sat up and hopped off of the bed, slipping his hand out of Piers' grasp. He headed over to the little cot where Sherry had been sleeping, picked out a blanket with far less concern about whether it was pink or not, and headed back over to wrap it around the brunette's shoulders. 

Along with his arms. How had he wound up hugging Piers when he'd sworn he wasn't going to do anything of the sort? 

Piers flinched in surprise, going stiff in Jake's arms and grabbing the redhead's arm instinctively.

He was dead silent.

Now that he had gotten himself into this situation, Jake wasn't really sure how to get back out again. He'd already been hugging Piers too long to pass it off as just holding tight when wrapping the blanket around him. Just letting go and not commenting on it seemed really weird, and maybe a little creepy. 

And he sure as hell couldn't tell Piers why he was hugging him. It wasn't pity, or even compassion, although Jake definitely felt bad for the guy with how much he'd been suffering lately. Jake just wanted to be close to him. He couldn't help it. 

The smaller man was still completely silent held there against his chest, and Jake was beginning to worry. He patted Piers on the back. Hopefully that would show he wasn't being a total weirdo, just...trying to be nice and sympathetic.

Piers seemed to relax a little bit – looping his arms under Jake's to hug him in return. 

“Thanks. I was getting cold,” he managed shyly after a minute, propping his forehead against Jake's shoulder.

"You said that before," the redhead confirmed, looking down at him in a troubled way. What was he doing? He couldn't honestly tell himself that he was sitting here holding Piers and thinking platonic thoughts about him. Jake brought a hand up to rest against the back of his neck, telling himself that Piers would feel warmer that way. 

“Don't,” Piers warned, giving him a light push on the chest. “I don't want to hurt Sherry.”

Jake sighed heavily and sat back enough to look at him — except he didn't. He looked off to one side, scowling at the way his face felt heated. God, at least somebody had admitted to it finally. 

"I won't," he said softly. "I don't know what the hell this is, but I still love her. Something's just...wrong with me lately." He looked Piers in the eyes at last, rather guiltily. Piers had been through so much, and even with all of their cures, he had come close to dying twice in the past twenty-four hours. He could still die.

“I'm pretty sure it's me,” Piers said, putting a hand over his face. “You've been taking care of me and I...I guess I just can't separate the two.” The small brunette cringed and ducked away from Jake, keeping his face hidden.

The taller man reached for Piers, though, hugging him back to his chest. It was impulsive, and maybe a little too tight of a grip, but he was trying to wrestle what he wanted to say into coherent sentences at the same time. 

"No, it's not just you," he said unhappily. "I-I don't get all bent-out like this over other guys. Piers, if I wasn't already with Sherry..." He looked down at the brunette and sighed. There was no 'if'. He WAS with Sherry, and he loved her. And she loved him. She didn't deserve to get cheated on — she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“But you ARE with her – and she's wonderful,” Piers replied calmly. “We can't do this to her. I won't,” he said in determination, frowning sadly. His red eyes were staring past Jake's shoulder. Jake could see where a tear had already escaped down the small man's cheek.

He sat up a little, cupping Piers' face in his hands and wiping the tear away with his thumb. 

"Hey, hey...I'm not gonna do anything," he whispered, looking into the sniper's red eyes as solemnly as he could. The fact that they were talking about Sherry and not hurting her and he STILL wanted to kiss Piers wasn't making him feel any less guilty.

“Good,” Piers whispered, staring at him with tired eyes. The skin that ran down the right half of his face had a texture to it. Jake could tell now that he was touching Piers. It was rougher than the rest of his face. “I thought we really hit it off. She told me about you and her shooting that big ugly guy together.”

"Ugh. Him. Yeah, I remember that," Jake said quietly, letting go of him and turning to sit sideways on the bed. He looked down at his hands and frowned, feeling helpless. Now that he knew for sure that Piers felt something for him, too, it was almost unbearable to think of leaving him alone and going off to be happy with Sherry. Piers didn't have anybody.

Shivering, the small soldier nestled back in the blankets sadly. 

“She made it sound like a date. 'He held my hand and we shot that bastard,'” he added, smiling. 

The tablet across the room buzzed loudly, flashing a red light and dropping a small vial out of the side.

Relieved to have something to interrupt the conversation, Jake immediately stood and headed across the room. He carefully lifted the small vial out of its place and turned to find the syringe to match. 

Piers rolled to sit up in bed again, rubbing his face tiredly. He couldn't decide which was worse – thinking Jake didn't like him and knowing they couldn't be together, or knowing that he DID and that they still couldn't.

A good guy, huh? The brunette thought, watching Jake with the syringe. You've got one too, Sherry. He's really awesome. He hugged himself, silently wishing Wesker would come back. At least he understood what Piers was dealing with.

Though their earlier conversation hadn't been a pleasant one, it was good to know that he wasn't completely alone without Jake. The ex-super villain that helped ruin the world was keeping an eye on him. Great.


	19. Keep Talking

Jake very carefully drew exactly 8 milliliters from the vial into the syringe. He even drew a tiny bit extra so that when he held the syringe up and squeezed to get rid of any bubbles, it went precisely to the mark. The least he could do for Piers was to not screw up his cure. Hopefully it really was a cure.

Stepping back over to the bed, the redhead sat on the side and held out his gloved hand for Piers' arm. 

"Let's get this over with." He kind of hoped it would bring back Piers' gray eyes again. He was still attractive with the red ones, but it was a constant reminder that he was sick.

The soldier sat his arm unhappily into Jake's palm. 

“Maybe you should strap me down again.”

All Wesker had said was 'side effects.' That didn't exactly tell them what to expect.

"I was gonna suggest that right after this," Jake admitted, none too pleased that they still had to go through that exercise. He looked at the syringe and Piers' arm and frowned, carefully slipping the needle into his wrist. 

The injection seemed like a pretty tiny amount. It must be potent stuff, he decided, drawing the needle back out and tossing the empty syringe aside. He pressed a thumb over the needle mark and looked up at Piers finally, reluctantly. "You're right, I should strap you in again. Just to play it safe."

Nodding, Piers moved Jake's hand and applied pressure to the needle mark. 

“Can you hand me the radio too? We really should check in with Claire.”

Jake seemed slightly put-out that his hand had been moved. He got up, though, and went to retrieve the radio. 

"You should lay down — we don't know how fast this stuff works."

“Pretty f-fast,” Piers gasped, squeezing his wrist. He gritted his teeth and curled back into the bed. The darker skin on his face was seeping blood, leaving a smear on the shirt he had for a pillow.

Jake was at his side in seconds, the radio forgotten on the floor. 

"Okay, it's okay. You're still in there so far, right?" He took hold of one of the brunette's wrists and slowly turned him over to lay on his back. "Relax, I've got this." 

He froze when he saw the blood on Piers' face, though. Why was he bleeding? That couldn't be a good thing. 

The brunette man's skin was hot to the touch. His cheeks had flushed as well and sweat droplets were already forming on his forehead. He weakly grabbed onto Jake's wrist. 

“I'm still here,” he gasped, wheezing in a forced breath.

Jake picked up the blanket, wiping at the blood on his forehead. 

"Keep talking. Talk to me," he encouraged, taking the hand off of his wrist and moving it over to the strap still left at the head of the bed. That was one wrist tied. The other strap was on Piers' ankle right now, though.

“When t-the hell is Wesker coming back?” Piers said through clenched teeth. “I think you gave me the wrong shot.”

Deciding not to get the other strap right now, Jake turned back and leaned over him, wiping at the blood on his face again. It was still bleeding — it sort of seeped through the skin there slowly. Worrisome. 

"This's the one he said to give you," he said with certainty. It was the one the tablet was preparing — it buzzed, there was almost exactly 8 milliliters in the vial. This was it. Maybe Wesker's estimates were off and 8 had been too many, though...

He looked at Piers with a small frown, picking up his other hand and squeezing it tight. "Look at me for a sec."

Piers squeezed his hand in return, forcing his head to turn toward Jake. He was shaking like a leaf now, blood and sweat pouring off of him. As he faced the redhead, Jake saw that blood was seeping from his eyes too. 

“I-I can't see. Everything's red.”

"Just close your eyes," Jake whispered, disturbed at the sight. He moved the corner of the blanket he'd been using on Piers' forehead, gently covering his eyes with it. "Try and stay calm — I've got you. Hey, you're staying really sane this time, that's gotta be a good sign."

He surprised himself by managing to sound so confident about it. He didn't know what to do, though. Piers looked like he was dying — bleeding from the eyes did not generally end well. Who knew what would help, though? Giving Piers the wrong thing could make it worse — they needed Wesker. Where the hell was Wesker?  


* * *

  
They passed the first safe room, but decided not to enter. For one, Chris wasn't sure if all of the Lickers were really gone. For two, Claire and the others were safe inside — and they'd stay that way until after Sherry got to check on Piers and Jake. 

And until Chris got to check on Wesker. Hopefully the blond was back in the room with the two younger men by now.

But as they rounded a corner, a figure in black was knelt, examining the large hole they had fallen through earlier. He stood up quickly, hurrying to them. 

“Chris!” Wesker actually sounded concerned as he reached the large man's side, both hands on his shoulders instantly. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” He looked Chris up and down several times, red eyes squinted behind his shades.

The most noticeable change was the group's clothes. Leon was in a red button up, black vest and jeans – while Sherry was also in jeans, but sported a warm looking baby blue lined jacket and her hiking boots. It was no surprise that Chris's outfit caught Wesker's attention the most, though.

The brunette had traded his beaten-up tactical outfit for a surprisingly soft-looking ensemble — tan cargo pants, a brown belt, and a forest green sweater with an open front. Under that, he wore a simple gray T-shirt with a V-neck. The sleeves of the sweater reached just past his elbows, and did little to hid the shape of his muscular arms. Even his boots were different — tan ones now instead of the black combat boots that had been falling apart from overuse.

Remembering his conversation with Leon in the clothing store, Chris put an arm around Wesker and hugged him by way of greeting — just a brief one, not clinging or anything, but it was impossible not to notice. 

"We're okay," he said, sitting back and looking at the blond with a tired little smile. "Because you got the Lickers out of the way. Thanks for that."

Wesker pulled him in for a kiss – earning a groan of disgust from behind them. Like Chris's hug, it was very brief. It was a lot like how his dream version of the blond would kiss him randomly. Exactly like it, in fact.

“Okay, okay. Please don't do that in front of me,” Leon called to them. Wesker gave him a glare and then looked at Sherry.

She hugged herself tightly and frowned back at him. 

“Are Jake and Piers okay?”

“Last I checked, yes,” the man in the sunglasses replied.

Being reminded of the dreams didn't help make Chris any less awkward about being kissed in front of the others. With the way they had fought with Wesker over the years, even the way they had talked about him after his "death", it felt like the relationship was something to be ashamed of — something he should try not to show in front of his friends by way of apology. Wesker didn't seem to care what the others thought, though. 

"We had to rush out of the room," he sighed, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. The rain really had soaked them to the skin — his hair was still damp even after being indoors for awhile. "I'm not even sure Jake knows why we left. We should check in."

That, and they had the radio so he could call Claire.

“He's keeping an eye on Piers – this way.” Wesker led Chris by the arm, keeping him close by. The second security room wasn't that far away.

Leon tried to reassure Sherry with an arm over the shoulder. She was probably still worried about Wesker knowing about the baby. It seemed to really get to her.

Chris let himself be led along, glancing at the big hole in the floor as they passed it. He could still clearly envision the Licker crawling around down there, chasing after his friends.

“The first treatment from Jake's blood should be ready by now,” Wesker explained, pausing to the open the door for Chris.

Sherry swerved widely around the hole.

As the door swung open, they could hear Jake speaking quietly. 

"...When things are better," he was saying, speaking to Piers. The smaller man was laying down on the bed, but one of the straps had moved from his wrist down to his ankle. Chris barely noticed that, though — the blood on the blankets caught his attention, and he realized in alarm that Jake was holding the blanket against Piers' forehead, covering his eyes with it. What had happened while they were gone?

"Piers?" Leaving Wesker’s side, Chris went charging across the room over to the bed. 

The others all quickly joined him. Sherry lingered back a few feet just in case.

“Captain?” Piers said, muffled by the blanket. He squeezed Jake's hand. “Is he really here or am I losing it?”

“What happened?” Wesker snapped at his son, pulling the blanket off of Piers' face. “What did you do?”

Jake sat back, gritting his teeth. 

"Exactly what you said to," he replied, as calmly as he could. Bickering would distract Wesker from helping Piers. "I gave him the shot and in minutes, he started bleeding. Do something."

Chris moved to the other side of the bed and placed a hand on Piers' chest. 

"I'm really here, Piers. Wesker's here, too — we're gonna help you, don't worry." 

He glanced up at Wesker as he said it, almost pleadingly. Piers had blood on his face. There were small streams of it coming from his eyes, like red tears. This couldn't be what Wesker's treatment was meant to do.

Without debating more, Wesker sped across the room, grabbing random things off of his table and returning shortly. 

“Sherry, go sit on the cot.”

Sherry didn't move until Leon took her gently and led her away. 

“Come on. They'll help him.” She looked like she might cry, but sat down with him. Leon looked just as worried.

“Let me see,” Wesker said, moving Piers' chin to get a good look at his face. The small brunette stared blankly through him with blood filled eyes. He blinked hard, trying to see. Wesker patted his shoulder. “You'll be alright. Just try to breathe normally.” He took note of Jake still holding the soldier's hand, but did not comment. He had a puzzle to solve. 

Chris, too, noticed the hand holding. He wondered if Sherry's suspicions about Piers liking Jake were true. If so, he was glad the redhead was playing along to comfort him. This was horrible — he kept forgetting how sick Piers really was still. Him being normal again or even making it through all of this was still not a certainty...

"Close your eyes, Piers," Jake sighed, moving the blanket to wipe at the blood on his forehead again. "At least it doesn't hurt, right?" He hoped it didn't, anyway.

“It...f-feels like my skin's on fire,” Piers gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and causing a stream of blood to trickle down his cheeks. “B-but I'm r-really cold.”

Wesker wiped some of the blood off of Piers' cheek up with his finger and dabbed it onto the tablet's tray. 

“Breathe.”

Jake dabbed at the brunette's face again, pulling the other side of the blanket up to tuck in closer around him. 

"You're still makin' sense, though. Keep talking, focus on talking."

Chris sat back a little and looked at the scene in front of him. There was blood smeared on the bed, Piers tied to it, Wesker off in the corner preparing the next experimental treatment. 

It felt uncomfortably like Umbrella. Poor Piers had paid for his sacrifice to save Chris's life several times over.

“Talking about what?” Piers yelled, twisting in the strap. 

Wesker looked up at Chris curiously and nodded pointedly to Piers.

Jake squeezed his hand, keeping a tight grip on it in case he tried to struggle away. 

"Anything, I'll listen. What countries have you been to? I worked in the jungle once," he told the brunette, holding the edge of the blanket over his eyes again gently.

Chris looked at him with a grim, carefully solemn look on his face. His eyes were sad, though. Piers did seem to be staying coherent this time. That would be a welcome change if the bleeding hadn't come along with it.

“Ah. Um. Desert-y ones a-and Edonia. I spent a lot of time there. Good f-food – great steak,” Piers stammered, trying to breath more calmly.

While reading his tablet, Wesker casually tugged the lower half of the blanket up to cover Piers' legs. He had perched on the bed side as well.

"Awesome steak," Jake agreed, letting the blanket rest there and wiping the little trickles of blood off of the brunette's cheeks one at a time. "But we think of that as foreign food, like Chinese or Mexican. Edonian food's all bread and mushrooms and dumplings and stuff."

Chris was beginning to see what Wesker had been raising an eyebrow about. Jake had actually managed to calm Piers down somewhat.

“That sounds awesome.” The small man sighed, relaxing. “Anything b-beats a MRE.” He even smiled a tiny bit.

“It's not as bad as it looks,” Wesker said at last, sitting his tablet aside. “The bleeding should stop shortly, but the sooner the better.” He patted Piers' arm and got up. “I'll be back.” With that, the blond headed to the door.

Jake glanced after him. 

"Screw prepackaged stuff. Home-made's better. When we get some decent supplies, I'll cook something Edonian," he promised. Finding steak was a lot less likely than finding bread and dumpling ingredients.

Chris stood when Wesker did, stepping around the bed as the blond man headed out the door. He moved over to Leon and Sherry, checking on the blond woman mostly. 

"Sounds like Wesker's got it figured out," he said quietly.

Sherry looked up at him sadly and nodded. Leon gave her a pat on the shoulder and glanced after Wesker. 

“Where's he off to again?”

"He must be getting something for Piers," Chris said, certain that it was true. Wesker was focused on this — and he actually seemed a tiny bit concerned about Piers, although he disguised it well.

He glanced over at the two on the bed, wondering if it would distract Piers better or worse if he suggested that Sherry go over there as well. "...We should check in with Claire and the others," he sighed. "Where's the radio?"

Sherry looked around glumly and pointed to it. It had been dropped haphazardly in the middle of the floor. It was a miracle Wesker hadn't stepped on it.

Frowning, Chris stepped over and picked it up. 

Flicking the power switch on, he cautiously pressed the talk button and asked, "Claire, do you copy?"

Jake was still talking to Piers quietly; it was impressive the redhead was holding his attention this whole time.

“Chris! Oh my god – are you okay? Is Leon with you? Are you guys safe?” His sister practically yelled into the mic. “Where have you been?”

Chris glanced at Jake and Piers and stepped back over near Leon and Sherry again to keep the noise down. 

"Sherry and I got a little sidetracked, but we're okay. We're back in the safe room with Jake and Piers. Leon's here, too," Chris briefed her, adding tiredly, "Over."

“Did Wesker ever come back?” Claire asked, concerned. 

The petite blond woman perked up at the sound her name – or maybe Claire's voice. 

The door opened again and Wesker came inside, closing it carefully behind him. Chris glanced as he did. What timing. 

"Yeah, he's working on the treatment for Piers." He decided his sister had enough to worry about without mentioning how the last treatment had gone.

“Good. Do you think it's safe to come out now? The survivors are getting antsy – and so am I.”

The tall blond man went to the side of the bed, reached into his pocket, and pulled out...two sticks of deodorant. He sat them aside. Then he moved the blanket Jake was holding and slid Piers' shirt up.

Jake turned and frowned at him, still holding the brunette's hand tightly. 

"What the hell are you doing? Is that supposed to help?" He didn't try and stop Wesker, though he was pretty sure Piers wasn't comforted by having his shirt pulled up while he couldn't see what exactly Wesker was up to. 

"Wesker killed the Lickers," Chris reported. "It's okay to come out, but do NOT come over here to the safe room." He paused, glancing at Sherry and Leon. "Maybe you could come over and see Sherry. No civvies here, though, they can't see Piers like this."

“Oh...is he okay?” Claire asked more softly. 

Wesker looked at Jake and shook his head. 

“The aluminum chloride in it will stop the bleeding – so, yes.” He offered Jake the deodorant stick. “I need to get back to work.”

Blinking, the redhead took it, glancing down at Piers. 

"Just put it wherever there's bleeding? How's that gonna help his eyes?"

"He's...Wesker's working on it," Chris replied quietly. "It's okay to go out into the mall. There's a big hole in the floor out there, though — be careful."

“And the roof. Might be a few stragglers too.” Leon added, watching whatever they were doing to Piers. 

“It won't.” The scientist replied shortly, sitting down and swiping at his tablet again.

Jake frowned, but turned back to Piers and moved the blanket aside off of his face. 

"Keep your eyes closed — this is gonna feel a little weird," he warned, picking up the deodorant stick Wesker had handed him. It seemed ridiculous, but if it helped, he would try it.

"You catch that last part?" Chris asked Claire, watching this as well. Deodorant?

“Yes – tell Leon thanks for the shotgun. Any chance we can steal Sherry away for awhile? Rebecca had wanted to examine her earlier.”

Piers nodded to Jake, keeping his eyes closed. 

“What are you guys doing?”

"Now would be a good time for that," Chris told Claire. Sherry was just worrying about Piers here, and Jake was too busy helping with that to reassure her. If anybody would make her feel better right now, it was Claire. 

"Nothing that'll hurt," Jake promised, moving his shirt aside again and readying the deodorant stick. At least it actually smelled good. "Wesker's with his tablet, it's just me. Hold still." He carefully smoothed the clear stick over the bleeding marks along Piers' side. 

It smeared. Frowning, he patted the blood off with the blanket and tried again. 

“Ugh, i-it's cold,” Piers grumbled, cringing as the deodorant touched his skin. He shivered deeply.

“It's alright if there's blood, Jake.” Wesker glanced up from his tablet. “It will clot.”

“Then I'll come and get her-”

“We'll meet you halfway,” Leon interrupted, standing up and offering a hand to Sherry. The little blond took it unhappily.

Chris patted Sherry's shoulder gently. 

"They're doing everything they can for him, Sherry. It's up to Wesker now."

"Got it," Jake replied — possibly the most civil exchange he and his father had ever had. He wanted to ask Wesker whether Piers would be affected by losing so much blood, but didn't want to say it in front of Piers.

Instead, he went back to smoothing the deodorant on over every spot on the brunette's side that was bleeding, moving up to his shoulder and neck. "Sorry it's cold. Nothin' I can do about it."

Piers kept his eyes closed, frowning. 

“As long as I get a blanket in the end.”

Now that Chris was in sight, Wesker's body language had changed. He seemed calm and quiet again. No more nervous pacing or stabbing at the poor tablet screen. 

Across the room, Leon and Sherry headed out of the door. The blond woman paused to say goodbye to Jake, but was worried about interrupting...whatever he was doing. She couldn't look at Piers for very long without cringing. In the end, the two blonds left quietly, with only Chris noticing them exit.

"Leon and Sherry are on their way to you," Chris told Claire quietly. "I'm gonna stay here for now. Don't let anybody else come over here, please. Over."

As soon as Jake finished putting deodorant over Piers' side and neck, he pulled the blanket up to the brunette's chest without waiting to see if the blood clotted. Releasing Piers' hand at last, the redhead gripped his chin gently and turned his face, applying the clear stuff to the bloody side of his forehead and dots across his cheek as well.

Piers' eyes were still bleeding, although more slowly than before; red lines trickled down both cheeks. Less bleeding would be a better fix than how it was before, though.

Even through all of the blood, Jake could see Piers was blushing. 

“Thanks.” He opened his eyes even though he couldn't see. “Now I smell like blood and flowers.”

“Take care of yourself,” Claire said worriedly. “Over and out.”

Chris sighed and headed over toward Wesker to sit the radio on the table.

"It's some tropical-scented deodorant," Jake explained, studying his red eyes worriedly. The red irises had looked bad before, but now pretty much all of his eyes were red. It was hard not to look at that and think he was badly wounded. He wiped the little streams of blood from Piers' cheeks again, even though they always just came back. "I think this's my blood sample treatment running into Wesker's," he speculated. It would be just like them to fight every time they met, even at the cellular level.

“I feel a little better,” Piers said. He sounded surprised. “That burning sensation has died down. The small brunette slipped a hand out from under the covers and held it out towards Jake.

A bit surprised, Jake took his hand again and squeezed it. 

"That's good, and you're not talking nonsense, so there's that." 

He used his free hand to pull the blanket down enough to look at Piers' side, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped.

His side was still bloodied, but it had certainly slowed down. The brunette held his hand tightly. 

“My head feels pretty clear,” Piers said quietly, turning his head and closing his eyes.

Jake tucked the blanket back in around him, then carefully felt his forehead — the side that had not been bleeding before. Thunder grumbled from somewhere outside, sounding rather close by.

Piers certainly still had a fever. He turned his head to look up at Jake again, eyes hooded. 

“Your hand's cold. You should get a blanket too.”

Wesker watched them out of the corner of his eye, trying hard to not let Chris see him do it. The only giveaway was the slowed pace of his constant poking at his tablet.

Jake shrugged. 

"Maybe I'll get one from the cot. Do you still feel cold?" If he noticed Wesker's glances, he ignored them utterly. 

Chris had lingered near Wesker's table after sitting the radio down there. Realizing he was just standing around eavesdropping on the conversation between Jake and Piers, the brunette moved over and sank down into the red chair again, sighing. Now that there weren't Lickers trying to kill him, he realized how much his back was stinging. Rolling on knife wounds tended to do that. Soaking in water in the sewers probably meant he should re-dress any injuries, too, but he felt too tired to mention it.

Switching his attention from Jake and Piers to Chris, Wesker frowned. 

“Do you need anything? I don't think I've seen you eat since the old base,” he mumbled, rising from his chair to check on the former BSAA captain. “There must be something from that vending machine that's worthwhile.” He dragged the box of snacks closer to Chris's chair – staying within arms' reach – and rummaged.

“It's weird. It's a little bit of both. I'm s-sweating and shaking at the same time,” Piers chattered, letting go of Jake's hand to feel his own forehead.

Noticing Wesker's distraction, Jake stood up and moved the blanket aside, smoothing Piers' shirt back down for him. 

"I could get under the blanket with you like last time. Kept you warm before," he suggested, keeping his voice very quiet. "And hey, then I don't need to go get another blanket. It's a win-win," he added drolly. 

Chris reached a hand out and rested it on one of Wesker's shoulders, looking at him tiredly. 

"Wesker. Could you take a look at my back? Had to deal with a Licker — think I might be bleeding again," he admitted.

Wesker was on his feet in an instant, nodding. 

“Of course.” He darted across the room, snagged the first aid kit and hurried back – pulling his own chair over. “Take off your shirt.”

Piers shifted his eyes away shyly, running a bloodstained hand through his hair. 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” he whispered softly back. “A-and it's not that I don't trust you – I just don't trust me.” His eyes had started to clear. It seemed like he might be able to see again as he glanced sadly back up at Jake. A hint of gray showed around the edge of one eye. 

Blinking, the redhead took hold of his chin and turned his face to get a better look at both eyes. 

"Hey...there's the gray," he mused. "All the red must've bled out, huh? Can you see me?"

Chris hardly had time to notice that Wesker had moved before he was back again. Feeling a little dizzy trying to follow that, he pulled off his sweater and drew the T-shirt over his head. It was so strange to wear just plain civvie clothes again — he felt like they would tear if he wasn't careful with them.

A gentle hand pressed to Chris's back. 

“Hm. Doesn't look good.” The blond man dug through the medical kit, pulling out an alcohol wipe. He dabbed at the knife slice. “I noticed one was missing – a Licker that is. I'm...” He trailed off into a quiet mumble.

Piers blinked hard a few times, clearing away more blood. 

“Yeah. I can,” he marveled, examining Jake's face. He was still shaking. The blood on his cheek had dried slightly – maybe the worst of it was over.

Jake smiled at him, amused at the amazed tone. He picked up the blanket and dabbed at the brunette's eyes with it, then gently wiped the last of the red "tears" off of his cheeks. Those gray eyes looked so pale and striking beside the red. 

"You're shakin' like a leaf," Jake informed him in a whisper, feeling his forehead again and glancing down at the blanket. "I could just lay next to you. You're strapped down, it's not like I couldn't move if you started doing something crazy," he pointed out. Or blame the "crazy" on the fever...

Chris was curious what Wesker was mumbling about. 

"You're what?" He asked, trying not to hiss at the sting from the alcohol. Well, after wading through the sewers, disinfecting was a smart idea. 

Going silent, Wesker just cleaned the cut. After a moment, he cleared his throat. 

“I'm glad you're alright,” he admitted quietly, glancing at the two men across the room to make sure they were preoccupied. They were. With each other. Like usual. He frowned as a realization dawned on him.

He was helping Chris – and Jake was helping Piers. Both protective, keeping their charges in sight at all times. Both gentle when necessary – and deadly when provoked. 

The apple hadn't fallen that far from the tree, after all.

Piers blushed and bit his lip, weighing his options. Outside of the blanket was safe, right? Not wanting to fumble through whatever words he could arrange to say 'get in bed with me' – Piers simply nodded.

Jake nodded, too, and stood to climb onto the bed with him. He pulled the blanket over Piers and wrapped it around his chest, settling next to him on his side hugging around his waist. Even through the layers of the blanket, he could feel how much Piers was shivering. The metal frame of the "bed" probably wasn't helping much with that.

He found his face very close to the brunette's, and looked over the fading, bloodied marks on the right side.

Chris looked down at the floor, recalling his conversation with Leon again rather guiltily. 

"Piers was having an episode. I had to get Sherry away — noise was drawing the Lickers," he explained. "...Leon said there wasn't any hole in the roof."

Wesker kept his voice low. 

“There was. A soldier had fallen through it. I saw him when we first arrived, but his body is gone now.”

Piers closed his eyes and moved up against Jake, leaning his head on the redhead's chest. The chill hadn't faded away – but the stubborn blushing made his face feel twice as hot as before.

Jake moved his hand up from Piers' waist to his back, right between his shoulders, and rubbed gently in little circles. Maybe it would help him warm up. Maybe he'd just been through so much crap lately that Jake wanted to comfort him.

Chris had noticed Jake moving out of the corner of his eye. Poor Piers...if he really did have a thing for Jake, the redhead wasn't exactly making it easy to stay away from him. Then again, Jake looked pretty willing to be there, and Chris couldn't even imagine him behaving that way toward any of the other men they knew. Maybe Sherry's wishes weren't so far-fetched after all.

"Where did you go?" He asked Wesker. A moment later, though, he sighed and brought a hand to his forehead. "N-never mind. It doesn't even matter. I'm glad you're here."

“I needed more supplies from the lab. This equipment is lousy. The facility is old and isn't making things any easier,” the blond grumbled, wrapping an arm around Chris to grab the other end of the gauze. He tied it off and patted Chris's back to tell him he was done.

Piers didn't object. He actually seemed to relax, breathing a warm sigh between them. One of his arms was still strapped up, so he was leaned almost on his face to keep from twisting it. 

He mumbled tiredly, “That...I think I'm g-going to fall asleep.” The brunette cringed, eyes still closed. “I'm sorry if I drool on you.”

"Don't care," Jake said nonchalantly. "I've already got blood all over me anyway." He wondered how Sherry was, wherever Chris had sent her. Probably to be with Claire. If Chris was back, he was sure his girlfriend had returned safely, but he felt kind of bad for being so distracted with Piers earlier that he hadn't actually noticed where she went. Hopefully Piers would be on the mend after this. 

Chris sat up and turned halfway on the chair to face Wesker. 

"Where do you think the things you'll need are?"

“Far away.” Wesker hesitantly offered Chris back his shirt. “I don't believe I'll be able to make a permanent cure, but the treatments should work – as long as they're administered consistently.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I'll need blood regularly.”

The small brunette in Jake's arms was already slipping into sleep, breathing steadying out. After all the pain, bleeding and confusion, he was probably exhausted. He rested his free hand on Jake's chest suddenly, fingers curled.

Chris held the shirt and looked over at Jake and Piers. 

"...I'm pretty sure that won't be a problem."

Wesker glanced too. 

“No, I don't believe it will.” He got up and nabbed a blanket from the stack on the cot – a mint green one embellished with cartoon dinosaurs – and spread it over Chris. “You should get some rest as well.”

The brunette looked up at him uncertainly. He felt like he should say something. Or do something. 

"You'll be working on the next treatment, then?" He asked, hugging the blanket to his chest with one arm and running his fingers through his hair with the other. Felt like his hair was sticking up. Oh, well.

Wesker reached a hand out to smooth Chris's hair but retrieved it quickly. 

“Yes – of course. It needs improvement.”

Chris glanced at his hand as it got close to his face, then back to the blond's expression. Did Wesker think being touched bothered him? 

"Right away?" He asked more quietly, sighing. 

Wesker nodded. 

“He needs to be treated soon. Don't worry, I have it under control.”

Chris shifted in the chair, leaning back and hugging the blanket around him closer. 

"Thank you. Piers doesn't deserve this...and we'd never be able to help him without you here," he said honestly. "I-I'm grateful."

The tall blond froze, watching Chris intently from the safety of his dark lenses. After a long moment, he sat quietly down in his chair and clasped his fingers together, bracing his elbows on his knees. 

“You're welcome, Chris.”

The brunette nodded quietly, feeling drained. He wished Wesker had stayed over next to him a little longer — or that they could forget their responsibilities and curl up to sleep, like Piers and Jake. It seemed they barely saw each other before both were preoccupied with something again.

He found his mind wandering to the storm and the Lickers, and Sherry's face as she giggled about Piers and Jake. When had he closed his eyes? It was comfortable, though, so he didn't open them again. Wesker was right there again, for the time being.


	20. Sunshine

"This isn't so bad. Kind of nice, actually," Rebecca mused, looking over the changing room she had picked out. Chris's friend Leon had brought Sherry back with him, and she and Claire had both insisted that the blond girl get at least a basic medical exam while they had the chance. 

They'd picked Victoria's Hidden Truth as a "medical office" for the privacy of the fitting rooms — especially the nice large one meant for handicapped people.

“A little girly, but it'll do,” Claire said, eying the bright pink walls. 

However, Sherry simply mumbled some kind of approval and ignored the room. Her expression was mixture of deep thought and fear. 

Claire circled back and sat down beside the little blond. 

“Hey. I'm sure he'll be fine. Wesker might be a total whack job – but he's also a super genius.” She gave Sherry a gentle hug over the shoulder.

Rebecca unslung the medical pack from her shoulder and placed it on the little fitting room bench, glancing at the two. 

"I'm still not that clear on how Captain Wesker's with you guys," she admitted, pulling out a few basic medical tools — first-aid stuff, mostly, but also a stethoscope and some small PDA-like gadget. "Doesn't matter now, I guess. He's around, Chris is working with him, and this is Chris's group."

She paused and looked at Sherry uncertainly. "...So, I guess you and Chris and Leon got into some trouble outside the safe room. Any injuries?"

“Uh, no.” Sherry finally sat up, taking off her coat. “Nothing we couldn't handle.” Claire took her coat.

“I was really worried about Chris. He's tough, but sometimes – well, his brain takes awhile to catch up with him.” The auburn haired girl frowned. “Like with Wesker.” She sat the coat aside on the bench. “He just showed up once we established a base and somehow convinced Chris that he was a new man and wants to help 'save the world.'” Claire rolled her eyes. “I hope his brain catches up before we're all zombies.”

"Really?" Rebecca blinked, glancing at both of them. "I only made it through that night in the mansion because of Chris. He's smarter than you give him credit for." She stepped over to Sherry and smiled, patting one of her shoulders. "It'll be alright. He's lived this long, right?"

“Right now, I'm more worried about Piers!” Sherry sighed. “When we got back, his eyes were bleeding...” Her eyebrows pinched sadly. “I'm glad Jake stayed with him.” Claire patted her arm.

Rebecca's brows rose. Bleeding from the eyes was...not good. 

"I-I'm sure if there's anything that can be done, Captain Wesker's the one who can do it," she said. "I never saw him do any scientific stuff, but if the files Chris sent me are true, he's brilliant." It was too bad he was brilliant and crazy. She tried not to frown, for Sherry's sake, and patted the blond's other arm instead, taking the side where Claire was not.

"Let's just take care of you and let them take care of Piers. Okay?"

The small blond nodded. 

“He knows about the baby too.”

"Well, yes. He asked me to come see you because of it," Rebecca reminded her gently, smiling. "How far along are you? Do you know?"

Sherry looked down at her stomach and shrugged. 

“Three months? I really don't know.”

Rebecca glanced at her stomach, too, thoughtful. 

"Hmm. Well, that's okay. I'm gonna have to ask you some really awkward questions, but I'll try not to be too nosy. Anything different you've noticed since the baby that seems bad, like discomfort or pain or anything? Mood swings count," she added mildly.

“Hmm.” Sherry tapped her forehead and pondered. “No. Not really. I felt really sad and guilty about poor Piers having to be strapped down – but I don't think that's a weird reaction or anything.”

Since she couldn't really help and didn't know squat about babies, Claire pulled her legs up onto the bench and relaxed. 

“I felt bad too – he's so cute.” She snickered. “It's like he's a little version of Chris. My little brother.”

A smile lit up Sherry's face and she looked at Claire. 

“He's really nice, too.”

"I have a hard time imagining Chris little," Rebecca told them, smiling. She turned back to Sherry. "Have you been experiencing any morning sickness? If it's really been three months, you're just about at the end of the first trimester, so it should calm down."

“I did for a little bit, but I...” Sherry stopped and cleared her throat. “I haven't exactly been eating a whole lot lately, so it wasn't really a problem.”

“Jake didn't feed you?” Claire asked angrily.

“We've been a little busy – and don't tell him,” she replied quickly, frowning cutely and poking at Claire's arm. “He's got enough to worry about with Piers.”

The auburn haired woman beside her smirked. 

“Careful. I think you've got competition,” she joked, leaning back on her palms on the bench.

Sherry didn't reply. The blond hunched her shoulders up and forced her eyes to the floor.

Claire raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

Rebecca shifted a bit awkwardly on the bench. 

"W-well, that brings up one of the awkward questions I was talking about, actually. Sherry, do you sleep with anybody but Jake?" She sounded apologetic to even have to ask, but it was kind of important.

“Oh, no...not at the moment,” Sherry added very shyly, wringing her hands. “Um. You know. I um.” She turned to Claire and took a deep breath. “I need your opinion on something actually – since we're all alone in here.”

Rebecca smiled at her sympathetically, feeling bad for making her so flustered. 

"I won't tell anybody anything," she promised. "Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that." 

“I think Piers likes Jake.” Sherry looked back at Rebecca. “Like, romantically.”

“Too bad – he's taken,” Claire said with a cringe. “But I did get the feeling that Piers was gay. My gaydar's pretty damned evolved.”

“No, no. I don't mind,” Sherry hurried to explain. Both her cheeks and ears had gotten red. “I-I want Jake to like him back.”

Claire sat forward like a snake bit her. 

“What? You're trying to give Jake away to him? Jeez Sherry – pity has its limits.”

The blond deflated. 

“NO. I want us to SHARE Jake.”

Chris's sister just sat there with her mouth hanging open for a minute.

Rebecca was blushing nearly as much as the blond now. Wow, and Sherry looked so young and innocent! 

"I-I'm sorry, I can't be much help for advice in this case," she admitted. "All I can say is, you should do what's best for you, not just what you think Jake wants." 

It didn't sound like Sherry was interested in Piers, herself. Or maybe she liked him but thought he was only interested in men, or...or maybe this was way over Rebecca's head, and she should stop thinking about it. "M-maybe hormones are affecting your feelings?" She added uncertainly.

“That's the thing – I don't know if Jake wants it or not. But why not? If I can't even talk to you guys about this, how am I supposed to ask Jake? Chris said to be subtle-”

“Chris KNOWS about this? Oh my god.” Claire put a hand over her mouth and shook her head. “Sherry,” She placed a hand on the small woman's back. “Don't do it. Piers is a great guy – I'm sure he'll find his own prince charming.” Well. That was a bit of a stretch for what she'd seen of Jake, but meh.

“But he likes Jake!”

Claire patted her back. 

“But Jake is yours,” she said slowly.

Sherry pouted, crossing her arms to hug herself. 

“He could be ours.”

"I don't know these guys," Rebecca reminded them, sitting up and folding her hands on her lap. She took a deep breath. "And I don't have much relationship advice that would apply, here. But it sounds like Jake's one of those 'you're my everything, only you' types. If he IS bisexual, Sherry, I'd be careful he doesn't switch from you to Piers." 

She didn't find the idea of the redhead liking men too out-there. His father appeared to be with Chris despite, well, being a father, after all.

“Jake loves me. I'm not worried,” the petite blond said confidently. She looked between them. “Come on guys – it's not that weird!”

“It's pretty weird, Sherry. Think about your baby too.”

“What about it? I have lots of wonderful people to help me out.” The blue eyed woman smiled at Claire. “And Piers will teach it how to snipe!”

Rebecca held up her hands. 

"Hey, I won't judge you! I-it sounds like before you do anything to change relationships, you had better make sure that Jake is actually interested in Piers like that. I mean, even if he is bi, maybe he wouldn't go for a relationship with more than one person at once. You know?"

“Thanks Rebecca.” Sherry beamed. “You're right – just like Chris. I should just suck it up and talk to Jake about it.” The blond frowned suddenly. “But I have to get Jake away from Piers for awhile.”

Claire leaned around her and smiled. 

“I think I can help with that.”

Rebecca nodded, getting to her feet. 

"Well, unless there's any pain or other weird symptoms, your baby seems to be doing okay. Just ONE more awkward question for you and we can go back outside, okay?"

Sherry stared up at her, trying hard not to cringe in anticipation. 

“Yes?”

The brunette sighed, turning and poking around at the items in her medical pack. 

"Um. STDs. You and Jake both need to be tested."

“Um. Okay,” the little blond said, blushing a bit more. That WAS an awkward one. She had to pass it along to Jake, too. Ugh.

"I know it's embarrassing, but if you do have any, they can really hurt the baby unless we treat them," Rebecca explained, turning back to her and Claire. She smiled. "But I CAN treat any that we find, so don't worry about it."

“That's good to hear,” Sherry mumbled. “Um, are we done? I really want to just talk to Jake. I feel like I might chicken out again if I don't do it now.” She rubbed her forehead. She had to do it. It had been a constant thing on her mind for days now.

“How about I go get Jake and send him in here? Then you two can talk,” Claire offered. She glanced up at Rebecca with a smile. “If we're done.”

"Yes, we're good for now," the petite brunette said, smiling as well. "If you have any medical needs, you can always come to me, okay? It looks like I'm the closest thing the group has to a doctor."

She slung her pack over her shoulder and picked up Sherry's hoodie, offering it to her.

Sherry took it and put it back on. 

“Thanks – for everything.” She pulled her feet up onto the bench and hugged her knees.

“I'll see you later then.” Claire said sweetly, ducking out of the door before Rebecca could.

The brunette looked after her for a long moment. 

"...I guess she thinks we have more things to talk about without her here."

Sherry glanced after her nervously, grimacing. 

“I'll bet she's off to scare Jake. She'll probably tell him something horrible!”

Rebecca sighed and sat her bag back down. 

"It sounds like she wants you to be happy. Trust her and see what happens," she suggested, smiling. "Hey...I know you said you aren't eating much, but are you taking any vitamins? Prenatal vitamins are very important. There might be some somewhere in the mall..."

“Oh!” Sherry rummaged in her pocket, pulling out a baggy packed full of pills. “Jake got me some earlier. I've been taking them whenever I remember to.” She squished the baggy thoughtfully.

"Jake did, huh?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow, a bit impressed. The guy really did try to take care of her, it seemed. "That's great, I'm glad to hear it. You really do need to eat and drink enough, though. We'll work something out," she mused, frowning to herself. 

“What?” Sherry stared at her, noticing the frown. 

"Well, there are a few foods you're not supposed to have when you're pregnant," the brunette told her, taking a seat on the bench. She shrugged. "Tuna and caffeine are a couple of them. I know we can't be picky if we barely have any supplies, but if you let me keep an eye on what you're eating I'd feel better."

“Yeah,” Sherry said sadly. “Jake already told me that he'll have to find me decaf.” The blond girl looked sadly at the floor again. “Piers gave me a MRE but I left it somewhere.”

Rebecca reached over and patted her back. 

"Aww, don't worry, it's not forever. Although if you plan to breastfeed, you have to watch what you eat during that, too. Ehehe...we've still got a long time before you have to worry about that, though!"

“Thank god!” The blond sighed, propping her head on her chin. “I don't even want to think about all that!”  


* * *

  
The red chair was so comfy. It was plush and cozy, and the sun coming in the window made a nice warm spot right on Chris’s back. He wasn't sitting up anymore, though. The large brunette was laying on his side. Then he heard children.

“You're just mad because you burn like bacon!” Piers yelled childishly, storming into the room in front of Jake. His arm was still in a cast and strapped to his chest but he was obviously feeling better with all the yelling. The tiny toddler had a bucket in one hand – full of beach toys – and was in a matching tank top and shorts set, complete with small white sandals.

“Piers,” Wesker hissed, hurrying in behind them and shooing them back out of the room. “Shh! I'll get Dad, you two go wait in the living room.”

"I'm not bacon! Daddy, Piers just called me a pig!" Jake retorted, sounding so genuinely miffed about it that Chris had to smile. The kid had turned around and headed to the living room, though — the voice faded away quickly.

Chris lay there quietly for the moment, letting the fact sink in that he was back in the dream world again. So he must be asleep out there in the safe room...right?

He heard footsteps come closer. Fingertips ran through his hair, smoothing it down. Wesker sat gently down beside him to shake his shoulder. 

“Chris?”

Judging by the warmth on his back, it was a bright sunny day outside. Certainly not like in the real world.

And didn't that just describe his situation in these dreams versus reality, too? Everybody was just fine with him being married to Wesker here, life was good, the world wasn't ruined, and he wasn't so exhausted all the time. 

Not so real life. He sighed and opened his eyes, looking up at the dream Wesker.

Crystal blue eyes met his, and Wesker smiled. 

“Good morning, gorgeous.” He played with a piece of Chris's hair, leaning over against the brunette. “You're always sleeping...”

Chris was getting tired of that, himself. He said nothing, though, reaching up and touching Wesker's face. He was always so warm in these dreams. 

The blond man leaned into his hand. 

“The kids have been begging all morning to go to the beach. Piers seemed really excited, so...” He shrugged a shoulder, smile fading. “They're waiting in the living room.”

Beach? 

Chris slipped his hand up to the back of the blond's neck and slowly drew him down for a kiss. He'd wanted to kiss Wesker in the safe room so badly before, but something had held him back. It felt like he wasn't allowed to.

Al wrapped his arms tightly around Chris's neck, prolonging the kiss. He was exactly like the real world Wesker in every way – but somehow, they were nothing alike. The man in his arms – his husband – was much softer and more open than his actual self could probably ever be.

But maybe he just hadn't seen that part of Wesker yet?

That was how these dreams always left him feeling — hopeful. Every time he started feeling hopeless about the situation in real-life, he'd fall asleep and see how things could be if they could just manage to get there. He wanted to believe that the real Wesker could be what this one was to him. 

He reluctantly ended the kiss, reminding himself that the kids were waiting impatiently for them in the other room. 

"Okay," he told Wesker, looking up at his blue eyes with a small smile. "Now we can go."

With a disappointed click of his tongue, Wesker got up from the couch. He was also dressed for the beach, in a white tee and bright orange swimming trunks. 

“I tried to tell Piers he can't swim with only one arm – but he wants to try anyway. Thank god for floaties.”

Chris sighed and sat up, running his fingers through his hair. He broke into a rather large yawn, covering his mouth with one hand. How often did the dream version of him sleep? He was a little surprised that he was actually waking up in the morning this time.

"We could always put him in an inner tube," he suggested.

“Why not both?” Wesker smirked, disappearing out of the room. He called back in, “I'm going to get them into the car.”

"I'll be right out," Chris told him, getting up. "Just let me get changed." He had, he realized, never left the house in any of these dreams. The farthest away he had gone was the edge of the yard when Wesker had been digging for the flash drive by the fence. Well, and the hospital, but he'd only seen the inside.

He wondered if the rest of the world was as idyllic as his household.

It didn't take long to locate some swim trunks and a tank top in the bedroom and change into them, along with a pair of brown leather sandals he could not possibly imagine belonging to Wesker. They had to be his. 

The sun felt odd on his skin; how long had it been since he'd worn anything with short legs, or no sleeves? There was no level of armor or protection in beach clothes. Feeling a bit naked, the brunette slipped a short-sleeved button up with a green frond pattern on over his tank top. Then he hurried to the front door. It had been at least five or ten minutes...maybe he could blame still being sleepy. 

Outside was amazing. The sun was hot, but there was a gentle cool breeze sweeping through the air that made it just about perfect. Their lawn was no longer muddy like when Piers had fallen from the tree, but bright green and vivid.

Wesker was leaned against the hood of their black SUV – a little weird – texting on his strange phone. He didn't look up when Chris came out. Both of the kids were strapped into their car seats and seemed to still be arguing about something. Probably bacon.

"You can't go in the water," Jake was insisting. "Sharks'll eat you! They can tell when you're hurt and they come pick you off!" He was gesturing to Piers' cast. 

Not sure how to comment on that one, Chris stepped over and paused by the car, staring at it. Did he drive, or did Wesker? He frowned slightly, wracking his brain for any possible hint somebody had dropped earlier about this. 

He really had no idea.

“Don't worry about it Piers – sharks only eat redheads,” Wesker called into the car with a smirk. He turned to Chris and smiled. “Claire says she'll meet us there. With that blond guy from last time. Larry?” He asked, circling around the car to the driver's side.

Relieved for some cue to follow, Chris moved to climb in on the passenger side. 

"Leon?"

"Sharks eat blonds all the time!" Jake said indignantly, as if anybody should know this. "If you're hurt they'll smell it and eat ya — they don't care what color you are!"

“Calm down. As long as you stay in the shallow water, they won't eat you,” Wesker explained, turning out onto the road.

“But I wanna swim!” Piers protested loudly, rattling his bucket of toys.

“In the shallow water, sure.”

The neighborhood looked very idealistic. Clean, well-maintained homes with yards and white fences scrolled past on both sides, some with pools, others with playsets in the yard and yet more with flower beds.

Wesker glanced Chris's way. 

“You're awfully quiet.”

“Dad!” Piers whined, big gray eyes tearing. “I wanna swim!”

The brunette blinked, broken from the spell of watching the scenery scroll by. It felt like the last time he'd seen a mowed, landscaped lawn was in another lifetime. 

"Daddy's right — you have to stay close to land," he told Piers. "You can't swim by yourself with only one arm — what if you get tired and sink?"

"Then the sharks'll eat him," Jake said direly, scowling. 

Piers' head spun to look at his brother, eyes tearful. 

“Nu uh! They'll eat you first because your hair looks like blood!” The tiny brunette yelled, flailing his arms.

“Piers,” Wesker warned, leaning back to give the toddler a frown. “Enough.”

Sticking out his bottom lip, the little boy hugged his bucket and cried. 

Looking guiltily at Chris, Wesker sighed. 

"How about this," Chris suggested, turning in his seat and looking back at the boys. "You two can swim if I'm in the water with you. I'll keep the sharks away," he added sagely to Jake. 

Piers looked at him sadly. 

“H-how do you keep the sharks away?”

“Dad used to fight sharks all the time in the Air Force – he'll just punch them in the nose,” Wesker said softly, casting an apologetic look back at the toddlers.

Jake looked quickly up at Chris in alarm. 

"In the Air Force? You mean there're FLYING sharks?"

"Not anymore," Chris said matter-of-factly. "I killed them all with my fighter jet. The ones I punched were the swimming kind, though."

Jake looked at him dubiously.

The car slowed to a stop and Wesker turned it off. 

“Here we are.”

“Let me out!” Piers howled happily, wiggling in excitement. “I see Sherry!”

Wesker smiled and hopped out of the car.

Climbing out of the car, Chris moved around to unstrap Piers from his seat. 

"Remember, no getting in the water without me there," he told the excited little boy. 

Even the beach looked perfect and ideal and sunny. The air was warm, and there was a light breeze.

“Piers!” A blond toddler rocketed past his leg, latching onto Piers. It was Sherry. She was in a cute little flower print dress with matching bows pulling her hair into pigtails. “I found a clam!”

“Ooh, I wanna see!” They took off back out the way Sherry had come at a full sprint.

Wesker sat Jake down too, patting his head. 

“Go join them.”

"I don't wanna play with a girl," the little redhead grumbled, but trudged off dutifully in that direction. 

Chris looked after him and smiled. The real Jake definitely had a different attitude about THAT subject.

“Hey guys.” Claire dodged the little redhead with a smile, joining her brother and Wesker by the car. “I brought chips and salsa.” She grinned. His sister was wearing a pair of familiar cutoff denim shorts and a red bikini top.

Wesker nodded down the beach. 

“How's it going with the pinup?” He was nodding at Leon, who was laying on the beach – arms tucked behind his head with a big smile on his face. He was just wearing a pair of red swimming trunks.

“Oh, you know.” Claire shrugged. “I probably better dump him before the two week dating mark.”

"He seems like a nice enough guy to me," Chris offered, shrugging and starting that way. "I'm gonna say hi."

“We'll unload the car. Hey Al...” Claire stepped closer to Wesker as Chris left, lowering her voice.

Leon didn't seem to notice him approaching. The kids were noisy. 

Piers and Sherry were playing with the bucket of toys, sitting the clam she had found on top of a sand throne. Piers was doing his best to keep up with her with only one arm – but the little girl was very helpful. She held the bucket while Piers clumsily filled it, tiny shovel by shovel.

Jake stood around nearby, keeping a suspicious eye on the ocean like sharks might come flying out of it at any moment. He was carrying a little stick around, poking at the sand with it occasionally, but generally did not look very happy to be there.

Chris stepped over beside Leon and crossed his arms, looking out to sea. 

"Feels good to be out here in the sun," he commented, glancing down at the blond.

Leon sat up with a jolt, lifting his sunglasses to squint up at the large man. 

“Hey Chris. How's your head?”

Laughing at his reaction, the big brunette took a seat beside him in the sand. 

"Sorry if I startled you. I'm on the mend — we all are." He glanced off toward Piers briefly. 

It was really easy to talk to Leon, because in real life Leon was his best friend. He had to remind himself that this Leon didn't really know him.

“God. That was terrible,” the blond mumbled, also watching Piers. He glanced over at Chris. “It must have been way worse for you, but still. I'm really sorry I didn't try to catch him.”

“Eew!” Piers giggled, throwing a piece of seaweed at Sherry. She squealed and ran, laughing the whole way.

"It's done," Chris told him, shrugging. "I told myself I wouldn't play the blame game." He paused, turning back to the blond. "I can't remember if I thanked you for sticking around to be with Claire while we were in the hospital. That was good of you to do — thank you."

Leon smiled. 

“No problem. I couldn't just leave – I'd feel like a total douche.”

Just as the last word was formed, a Prisbee nailed Leon across the nose. The blond rolled back, sending sand puffing up. Lucky for him it was just made out of plastic. Leon grimaced and sat back up, holding his nose. 

“Ow.”

Chris sat up quickly and leaned to try and see his face. 

"You okay?" He put a hand on the blond man's shoulder, glancing down the beach in the direction the plastic disc had flown in from. He hadn't seen any Prisbees in Piers' bucket of toys...

To his surprise, his view was blocked by a man as huge as him. 

“Sorry, pretty boy.”

Chris had to look up to see the man's face. He didn't look familiar but he was impressively scary. The man was blond and towering – solid muscle from head to toe. He was wearing a pair of tight camo swimming trunks and a white tank top – with a pair of dog tags around his neck.

He knelt next to Leon. The contrast was almost comical between the two blonds. While Leon was lean, this man looked like he could break a coconut on his abs.

“You okay?” The man grunted at last, as neither of them had spoken. 

Leon quickly offered him the Prisbee and nodded.

Chris, meanwhile, stared at him for a long moment, wracking his brain. Who the hell was this guy? So far everybody he'd met here in the dream world was somebody from real life, but he would've remembered a man like this — he kind of made a strong impression. 

Was it possible that Chris's mind had invented such a distinctive person? Maybe he remembered him from somewhere vague, like a commercial or a picture in a file. He was military, the ripped muscular build and the dog tags and camo made that much obvious.

The man turned his head to look at him, blue eyes intense. 

“Sorry about your boyfriend's nose.” With that, he stood and headed back down the beach – leaving heavy footprints. 

Leon stared after him. 

“Wow.”

Chris heard footsteps coming up behind him and then his sister plunked down on the sand beside him. 

“Oh my god – who's THAT?” She grinned, watching the man go.

Snapped out of his daze, Chris blinked and sat up, shaking his head. 

"Uh. I don't know, some guy playing Prisbee. He accidentally hit Leon," he explained to his sister, gesturing to the blond.

“With this one,” Leon said, staring down at the Prisbee in his hand. The man hadn't taken it.

“I'll take it back to him-” Claire started.

“No, no. I will,” Leon said, getting up. Chris took note that his nose was bleeding. “I'll be right back.”

Chris shrugged and treated it as casually as possible, turning to Claire and placing a hand on her shoulder. 

"You and Al talked for awhile. Is something wrong?"

“Hm? Oh no. He just wanted to talk to me about Bill.” She watched as Leon went to talk to the hulking man. “That dude's going to think he's gay – should I go save him?” She looked at Chris worriedly.

Chris shook his head. 

"Let's see how he handles things. That says a lot about a guy."

His sister giggled. 

“Oh come on. He's a pretty little guy and that dude looks like he can lift a train.” She got back up and dusted her knees. “Oh yeah. I was helping Al,” She mumbled, heading back up the beach.

Chris glanced after her, then back the way Leon and the blond soldier had gone. Well, great. He was by himself. 

Getting to his feet, he headed in the direction of the kids. He could see Piers and Sherry having a sandcastle tea party, complete with a little sand teapot on the mound that was their table.

Jake, however, was nowhere in sight.

“And one for you!” Sherry said sweetly, dropping a wet sand 'cookie' onto Piers' plate. She topped it off with a piece of beach glass.

“Thanks.” Piers grinned, pretending to eat the cookie.

Chris stepped past them as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the cute little scene. He shaded his eyes and looked around for any sign of Jake.

Leon ran up to his side, out of breath. 

“Chris...” He grabbed his side and hunched forward, holding out a piece of paper.

The brunette blinked and turned to reach for the paper. 

"What's this?" Wait, was it...

Sure enough. It was a phone number.

Leon groaned and shook his head. 

“How do I tell that guy that I'm not into men?” He looked at Chris with big pleading blue eyes. “Otherwise, we're going out for beers tomorrow.”

Piers glanced up at Leon, probably wondering why he was out of breath.

Chris glanced at the kid and stepped over beside Leon, putting a hand on his shoulder and steering him away a few steps so that he was out of earshot. He couldn't help the smile on his face.

Once they were further away, he stopped and patted the blond's back. 

"Well, at least you know getting hit in the face didn't make you any less attractive to people," he teased, keeping his voice low.

The blond groaned. 

“Come on. If you don't help me, I'm going to skip, then he'll get mad and make me into a floor tile.” Leon grimaced. “How do you blow off a guy?” He paused then reconsidered his words. “Um, n-not...not like that...”

Chris smirked at him at that. It was nice to be having a conversation with his friend that wasn't heavy and worried the way it had been in the real world lately. He decided he'd have to try and pull the real Leon aside for a beer or something sometime, just take a second not to think so much.

"Well, depends on what you SAID to get him to give you his number," he told the blond, nodding at the paper. "Does he have any contact info for you? If you don't show, who says you'll ever even see him again?"

“Me? I wasn't flirting – I just wanted to give him his Prisbee back. And then we started talking about spear fishing and knife throwing – and then we were going to have beers,” Leon explained defensively, blushing. 

“Chris!” Wesker called to him. He and Claire had been busy. It was like a whole setup with tables, food, a drink cooler, a massive umbrella and beach towels had just magically appeared. “Have you seen Jake?”

"You mean you came over to return an item and say very little, and got into an enthusiastic conversation about things you two have in common?" Chris raised an eyebrow. He was pretty sure if Leon had had the exact same conversation with a woman, he'd count it as flirting.

Turning when Wesker called over, the brunette replied uncertainly, "I haven't! We'd better find him." 

“He couldn't have gone that far.” With a nod, Wesker turned to talk to Claire briefly before heading off down the beach. 

Leon stayed close to Chris though, shoving the paper away in his pocket. 

“Just go tell him I'm not interested.” The blond slapped his hands together in a little plea. “I'll owe you big time.”

"You know, sometimes a beer really is just a beer," Chris told him, smiling. He shrugged. "You could just go, have a beer with him, and if he tries anything then tell him you didn't know HE was gay. Or bring a friend along, that'll make it obvious you thought it was just a hangout request."

Leon nodded. 

“Right. And then we'll get talking again – and I'll wake up in his apartment!” The blond protested, running a hand through his shiny blond hair. He groaned. “Will you come with me?”

"You black out after a few beers?" Chris raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'd better come along and keep an eye on you. Jeez." He smiled at Leon and patted his shoulder to show that he was kidding. "I like guns and knives and the like, too."

“Oh thank you!” Leon breathed, patting Chris's shoulder. “So tomorrow at 7. I'll pick you up?”

"Sure, that's fine," Chris shrugged. "Listen, I've got to help Wes — A-Al find Jake. Don't worry about it, all you agreed to was a beer," he reminded the blond.

“Right,” Leon agreed. “I'll help.” Still a little confused, Leon headed away on the beach – the opposite direction of the buff man.


	21. Just An Idea

Wesker was up on the path that led to the cars, talking on his phone. He wasn't really looking for Jake at all, was he? Chris frowned at him and stepped over to Piers and Sherry.

"Hey, did you two see where Jake went?" He asked the kids.

Piers got up clumsily, trying not to lean on his cast. 

“I saw him go up where Daddy is.” He came over next to Chris's leg. “Dad, are mermaids real?”

Wesker looked more like he was arguing with whoever it was – clenching a fist angrily.

Glancing at Wesker worriedly, Chris blinked, looking back down at Piers. 

"Mermaids? Well, I've never seen one," he said honestly. Turning the direction Leon had gone, he called, "Hey Leon!"

“Yeah?” Leon called back, turning around to face him again.

"Can you stay here and keep an eye on the kids? Think I know where Jake is," Chris said, starting toward the parking area.

“Sure.” The blond man came back him way. He patted Sherry's head as he sat down next to the kid's table. “Can I have a cookie?”

“Sure!” The little blond said happily, scooping up a handful of sand.

Piers joined them back at the table. 

“Mermaids aren't real.”

"I didn't say that," Chris commented over his shoulder, heading down the road. He approached Wesker, glancing back down the beach and then toward the blond again. He was still on his phone.

“...At least I take care of mine!” Wesker snapped coldly. He took a breath, settling suddenly. “I-I'm sorry, Bill. I didn't mean...” The tall blond paced back and forth on the path, a hand nervously rubbing his neck. “You can't expect me to drop everything and come running every time something goes wrong.” 

Bill again. He talked to him a lot.

Wesker stopped dead, clenching his fist. “Don't threaten me.”

Chris stepped closer and stopped beside him, frowning. 

"He's threatening you?" Knowing that it was Birkin, he immediately suspected some shady Umbrella mafia-like violent threats.

The blond almost jumped out of his skin, backing away from Chris quickly. 

“I have to go – I'll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone and shoved it into the pocket on his trunks. “Work stuff,” Wesker said numbly.

Chris studied his husband's expression, still frowning. 

"Everything okay?" He put a hand on Wesker's shoulder. 

“Everything's fine,” the taller man said uneasily, keeping his eyes low. He closed the distance between them suddenly, though, hugging Chris tightly. Wesker rest his head against Chris and breathed deeply. “Did you find Jake?”

Chris hugged him, bothered. He actually seemed a little shaken up. 

"Piers said he went this way. I was about to check the car," he said quietly. 

“Let's do that.” The blond pulled out of his arms and went to the car. 

"Al..." Chris followed him, sighing. Wesker was right, finding Jake should be the priority. It bothered him that anybody was threatening his family, though.

The black SUV had a door standing open when they arrived. There were rustling noises from the back seat.

Wesker leaned around the door frame, frowning. 

“Jake?”

The rustling abruptly stopped. 

Chris tapped the blond's shoulder. There were several candy wrappers on the floor just inside the door...shredded.

Glancing at them, his husband frowned. “Jake, if that's you – say something.” 

For a moment, there was absolute silence from inside the car. Then a little rustle came again, and something sat up in the back seat. Something...furry.

Chris and Wesker had no time to react before the animal clicked its teeth at them and pressed against the closed door opposite, beady eyes daring them to come any closer.

"Raccoon," Chris stated the obvious, frowning at it.

Wesker stepped back, bumping into Chris. 

“Damn thing.” He circled around the car to the driver's seat, popping the door open to honk the horn loudly.

There was a startled squeak from the passenger side. Jake peeked over the seat from the floor at him, wide-eyed. 

"Daddy?"

Chris stepped to the side as the raccoon went rocketing past him and out the door, taking off into the bushes. The little thief still had a Gershey bar clutched in its claws, and trailed wrappers as it went.

Wesker jumped too, staring at Jake. 

“What – are you alright?” He held out his arms to the toddler. “What are you doing in here?”

The little redhead practically dove into his arms, hugging him tight. 

"I-I was burnin' up, so I came to get the sunscreen — only the raccoon jumped in the car when I was in here! He was blocking the door, so I hid behind the seats!" It was remarkable how the kid managed to sound distressed about things, yet still vaguely indignant over them as well. 

Chris leaned in the back door of the car, looking at the mess of shredded candy wrappers. The 'coon must have been more interested in the candy than Jake.

Wesker hugged his son tightly, rubbing his back. 

“Hiding was smart. Raccoons are much worse than flying sharks.” He closed the front door and came back around the car to Chris's side. “But next time, just ask me to grab the sunscreen.”

"Y-you were talkin' on your phone, like always," Jake sniffled, leaning against him. Chris reached over and patted the kid's short hair. It was still strange to see him and Wesker not at odds at all, even a child version of him.

"I'll get the sunscreen for him," Chris told his husband, ducking back into the still-open side door to grab the bottle. The raccoon had, of course, utterly ignored it in favor of the candy.

“Sorry, Jake,” the tall blond said nicely. “Bill's having some trouble at work – you know, Sherry's dad? One of our projects broke.” It was more than a little weird to hear Wesker explaining anything to Jake, much less stuff that he and Birkin were been working on.

The little boy looked up at him with a worried frown. 

"But you're gonna fix it, right? You don't have to go now, do you?" 

Chris closed the car door and stepped after them, trailing a few feet behind. It was strange to see Wesker and Jake this way, but kind of touching. He wondered if the real Wesker would have been this kind of father if he'd been around Jake as a kid. 

Wesker stopped and waited for Chris. He knelt and sat Jake down. 

“Bill will get in big trouble if I don't, but I can go after we're done with the beach – alright?” He patted the little boy's head.

Jake rubbed one of his eyes and nodded quietly. Then he reached up and grabbed his father's hand, tugging on it. 

"Then let's go — I was gone too long, I bet the sharks are comin' for Piers!"

Chris smiled and stepped up to walk beside them. 

"He's okay, Leon's guarding him and Sherry."

"He didn't fight sharks in the Air Force, though," Jake scoffed, scowling. 

Wesker smiled at Chris warmly, slipping on a pair of sunglasses that had been around his neck. A tickle went up Chris's back. He looked like the real world Wesker – brilliant blue eyes hidden.

“It's alright. Leon knows how to spear fish. That works on sharks, too.”

"Right. He's a lot tougher than he looks," Chris reassured Jake. The little redhead fixed a dubious stare on him for a minute, squinting in the sun. Then he stuck out his free hand.

Laughing, Chris took hold of it and he and Wesker led the kid back toward the beach. Even laughing was easier here, and it was still so vivid. It felt more like leading double lives than dreaming.

“Yay,” Leon said halfheartedly, holding his arms over his head. Piers, Sherry and him had built a fancy sandcastle. It had multiple layers, a little moat and was dotted with lots of shiny shells.

Wesker paused a few feet away, taking the sunscreen from Chris. 

“Alright. Some of this and you're good to go.” He knelt down in the sand and dabbed some lotion on Jake's face. “Stay out of the water – and make sure Piers doesn't try to swim either.”

"I'll watch him," Jake promised grimly. He seemed to take the idea of sharks around here very seriously. While there weren't likely to be any real sharks around, Chris was glad the kids were staying out of the water since Piers couldn't swim very well with one arm.

Stepping over to the sandcastle creation, Chris crossed his arms and looked it over. 

"Wow. That looks great, you guys," he told Leon and the kids, actually a bit impressed. Leon must have added all of the shiny decorations and neat little leaf flags on the top — he knew the kids weren't THAT coordinated.

“Thanks.” The tired-looking blond sighed, leaning back on his palms and surveying the castle himself.

Wesker patted Jake's head. 

“You know, I know what you need.” He slid off his shades and carefully put them onto Jake. “There. Now your eyes won't burn.”

Jake sat up and adjusted the sides of the shades with both small hands. 

"Wow — awesome, I can see everything!" 

Chris smiled at Leon. 

"Thanks for watching the kids. We found Jake, as you can see." He gestured to the redheaded kid, glancing when he noticed the sunglasses. Wow — that was actually really cute. The real Jake and Wesker would both probably be irked to know he was even imagining such things.

“Go have fun.” Wesker patted his shoulder and came over to Chris's side. He looked over the castle and nodded with approval. “Nice.”

At least he was back to his dreamy looking self. No more sunglasses.

Chris smiled and slipped an arm around his waist, nodding. 

"This is fun. I'm glad you dragged me out of bed to come here," he said.

Wesker grinned at him, hugging an arm around the big man's waist. 

“So am I.” The blond replied, pecking Chris's cheek. “Now how about some nice cold beer?”

Chris smiled at him. He was about to reply when he remembered that Leon was sitting right there. 

"That sounds wonderful," he told Wesker honestly. "But we'd better stick close by and keep an eye on the kids." 

“I can watch them,” Leon said, waving a hand. “Really. I don't mind.” He nodded pointedly down the beach, muttering, “They're a good deterrent.” He gestured suddenly to the castle. “Besides, this kingdom needs an army!” The blond said dramatically. 

Piers and Sherry cheered. 

Jake hurried over to take a look at the sandcastle. 

"I can make you some tanks for it."

Chris gave Leon a grateful look and turned and led Wesker off toward the rather impressive picnic table that had been set up earlier. 

"You heard the man, let's relax while we have the chance."  


* * *

  
A hand shook Jake from his nap roughly.

“Hey, wake up.” It was a woman's voice. Claire?

The redhead opened his eyes and glanced around, frowning. 

"Wasn't asleep..." He glanced down at Piers and confirmed that, thankfully, the brunette was sleeping still.

“Shh,” Wesker hissed angrily from across the room. He was sitting in a chair next to Chris, who was also asleep.

“Sorry,” Claire said softly, turning back to Jake. “Sherry needs to talk to you. Now,” she said in a whisper, glancing at Piers.

The brunette was snuggled up against Jake, sleeping peacefully. He was very warm to the touch still, but he wasn't shaking anymore.

Jake blinked and sat up a little. 

"What's up? Why isn't she here talking to me herself?" It didn't take much to get him worried about Sherry.

“Shh, shh. Calm down,” the auburn haired woman hushed. “Jeez. She's okay. She's just a little freaked out over him.” She gestured to Piers. “I guess, his eyes were bleeding earlier or something?” Claire asked with a grimace. “Kind of scared her.”

Wesker glared up from his tablet at them.

Jake frowned, glancing down at Piers. 

"I was hopin' she wouldn't see that." He remembered Wesker saying something directed at Sherry earlier, but had been too focused on Piers in his alarming condition to actually turn around and see if she had approached the bed or not.

Claire cleared her throat. 

“Well, you better go talk to her. I'll stay with Piers,” she assured him.

Reluctantly, the redhead nodded. 

"Fine, but don't leave him alone with Wesker. I promised him I wouldn't while he's strapped down," he said quietly, lifting Piers' hand from his chest and placing it carefully on the brunette's side. He slowly scooted away from Piers and sat up, pulling off the one glove he'd still been wearing. The front of his shirt was smeared with bloodstains to match the ones on the bed and blanket. 

Claire sat down on the edge of the bed, tucking the blanket around the sleeping soldier. 

“I won't move until you get back.” She smiled at him. “Unless he wants water or something.”

Jake stepped around the bed to her side, pausing to look down at Piers. 

"Be careful, his blood's infected." He held up a hand and frowned at it. "I better wash this off before I get anywhere near Sherry. Where is she, anyway?" 

He turned to Claire expectantly.

“Victoria's Hidden Truth. Just ask Leon. He's standing guard.” She laughed softly. “And don't worry – I've been around infected blood A LOT.”

“Just leave,” Wesker growled from across the room, poking at his tablet in frustration.

"Good," Jake said flatly. "I don't wanna see how upset she'd be if I had to tell her you were a J'avo." He shot Wesker an irritated look in return before heading out the door. 

He hated to leave Piers tied up with Wesker in the same room. When it came down to it, the blond could easily overpower Claire if he really wanted to do something to Piers. Hopefully Redfield continued to distract him just by being there snoring on the chair in the corner...

He felt bad for not wanting to leave, too. If Sherry needed him he was supposed to be there — no ifs or buts about it.

After a brief stop at PC Jenny's to change clothes and scrub the blood off (high-class shoppers sure loved their little bottles of hand sanitizer), the redhead headed to Victoria's Hidden Truth. It was a lingerie store with an overwhelming amount of pink and lace over every square inch.

Leon was leaning on the desk outside of the changing rooms. He looked very bored. The blond man perked up at seeing Jake. 

“Hey. She's back in number ten. It's all the way at the back.”

"Okay," Jake said dubiously, stepping past him. Clearly everybody here was expecting him to show up. Why was Sherry waiting in some back room instead of staying out here to meet him? It made him uneasy.

He headed back to the 10th changing stall — the big handicapped one, he noted — and cautiously knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Sherry called.

Opening the door, Jake leaned inside, glancing around for his girlfriend. 

"Hey..." 

That little brunette medic Billy had been looking for was here, too. What was her name again? Whoever she was, she hopped to her feet and grabbed her medical bag, hurrying past Jake out the door. 

"I'll let you two talk!"

Sherry had her legs hugged to her chest, perched up on the bench. She turned her head to look at him. 

“Hey.”

Jake glanced after the brunette down the hall, then stepped inside. Closing the door, he came over and took a seat beside her on the bench, placing a hand on her back. 

"Everything okay? Claire said ya needed me here."

“Is Piers okay?” She asked guiltily. “I'm sorry – I should have just gone over there to see you both.”

Thinking back on how much blood was all over Piers, the blankets and the bed, Jake shook his head. 

"Nah, this works perfect. He's okay now, but he's sleeping." He turned and scooted closer, putting his arm around Sherry's shoulders and hugging her. "C'mon. What's the matter?"

“Um, I-I...” Sherry stammered. She leaned her head on his shoulder and frowned. “Piers is a great guy, huh?”

Jake turned more, hugging her with both arms. 

"He's growin' on me," he admitted. "It sucks he has to go through all of this, but he's pretty tough about it, too."

“I'm glad you're here to help him, Jake.” She smiled. “He seemed so lonely when he first got here and now he has you!” Sherry looked up at him cutely. 

Jake tilted his head, a bit bemused. 

"Well, yeah. Somebody's gotta stick up for him, Redfield's out of it these days," he pointed out. At least Sherry didn't seem upset...but with the fuss everybody had made getting him to come over here, he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something was up.

“Yeah, poor Chris. First with his head, then with the knife – and the Licker,” she mumbled, looking thoughtful. 

"I'm not sayin' he hasn't had it rough, either," Jake admitted, pulling her onto his lap. It was easy to do — Sherry was tiny compared to him, and light weight. He snuggled her up against his chest and kissed the top of her head. "I know you're super girl and all, but I haven't been around enough lately. Sorry about that."

“It's okay.” She smiled up at him and snuggled close. “I wish I could have stayed and helped too.”

"Safer for you not to..." Jake sighed, studying her face and running a hand slowly through her hair. She really was beautiful...and sweet, and understanding. Probably too understanding, but at least she wasn't upset.

“Um.” The blond girl looked away shyly. “Jake, Piers is gay.” She had to start somewhere. “Not that that's a problem or anything!”

Jake sat back a little bit, frowning uncertainly at her. 

"Uh. Okay?"

“I'm working up to this, please,” Sherry said nervously, wrapping an arm over Jake's shoulder. She patted his chest with her other hand. “He really seems to like you and you've been taking care of him...” She trailed off, afraid to say the next part. Jake looked freaked out already – maybe this was a bad idea?

"Oh." The redhead smirked, patting her back. "You don't have to worry about that, he knows I'm yours," he assured her. 

“Well, yes,” Sherry agreed, nodding slowly. “But, do you like him?”

Jake was quiet for a moment, trying to decide if she was asking what he thought she was asking. If she was, maybe she thought he was actually gay and was trying to be kind and give him an out — which would be just horrible. He might have feelings for Piers, but he definitely still loved Sherry.

Realizing he'd been silent for too long and that his heart was thudding in his chest, the redhead answered as casually as he could, "Well...sure. He seems like a really good guy. It doesn't bother me that he's gay."

“Jake!” She protested cutely, putting a hand on his cheek. “You know what I mean. Come on. This isn't exactly easy.” The blond girl pouted.

Jake blinked at her, his brows furrowing. 

"No, I'm actually a little confused," he admitted. "If you mean he's got a little crush on me, yeah. I noticed." He sighed, glancing off to one side. "I feel bad for him. He's got nobody." 

Sherry's expression saddened. Maybe Jake didn't like Piers back, then. Was she just causing a fuss over nothing? Feeling a little blonder than usual, Sherry nodded.

Jake looked at her again and smiled. It was a small smile, perhaps a tiny bit sad, but he followed up with a kiss to hide it. 

"I'm so damn lucky I've got you. Don't think I deserve you half the time, really."

She frowned in response. Their lives were pretty complicated as is without trying to throw Piers into the mix – but she had come this far. She had talked to Chris. She had talked to Rebecca and Claire. She HAD to tell Jake.

She took a deep, steadying breath.

Jake watched her worriedly. Kissing somebody and getting frowned at in response wasn't exactly a good thing. 

"If something's bugging you, you can just say it, you know," he sighed.

Despite her attempt at bravery, she deflated. 

“Just tell me if you like Piers or not. Romantically, if it has to be said,” the blond added quickly, mildly annoyed at her own incapability to explain herself. She didn't want Jake to worry.

Jake started to reply, then stopped himself, looking away. 

"I'm with YOU," he said firmly, feeling his face heating up despite his best efforts to be solemn. "And I love you. So it's a moot topic, right? Doesn't matter."

“Why does it have to be me OR him?” Sherry asked loudly, turning Jake's face back toward her. “You're wonderful,” she said sadly. “I think Piers needs you just as much as I do.”

She wished she had thought to cross her fingers that Jake actually DID like Piers. His response was a pretty good clue that he did, but still.

"You... Uh." Jake stared at her. Well, she'd discovered at least one way to instantly fluster him. "I-I couldn't do that! You're already more than a guy like me deserves, how could I ask you to only have me half the time?"

This conversation felt very surreal. Were they actually talking about this? He half-expected to snap out of a daze and find himself just arriving at the door again, having imagined this whole chat.

With a frustrated sigh, she crawled off of his lap. 

“It was just an idea, jeez. You said so yourself – he's completely alone.” She turned to stare at him with big sad blue eyes. “And since he likes you, he's probably going to stay that way!”

Jake stood up, pacing a few feet away and rubbing at the back of his neck — a sure sign he was feeling uncomfortable. He paused when he came to the wall, looking down. 

"Yes," he said quietly, "I like him. And he knows it." He sighed and turned back to her. "We both swore we wouldn't do anything, though. He'd rather stay lonely than hurt you. I-I don't know what it is about him — I don't like guys, he's the ONLY guy I've ever even thought about like this!" 

He slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning. This was so stupid. Why couldn't he just be as oblivious to Piers' feelings as everybody had seemed to assume?

“You do?” She gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. After a brief pause, Sherry braced her hands on her hips. “I knew it.” The little blond came over to Jake, laying her hands on his shoulders. “Thanks for not cheating on me.” She gave him a little smile. “But if you like him and I like him, can't we all be happy?”

Jake shook his head, hand still in place over his forehead. 

"Pretty sure he's just into guys. How would that work?" He lowered his hand and frowned unhappily at her. "Why would you wanna do something like that?"

Sherry pondered for a moment. 

“Why would you? Do you?” She asked curiously, staring up at him wide-eyed. “I'm not trying to push you into this. It's okay if you want us to just be together.” And to leave Piers alone, she added mentally. No, that'd be way too mean to try and guilt Jake into it. If they were exclusive, that was how it would be. He had already agreed not to do anything with Piers.

Jake glanced around the small room, at a loss for how to answer that. 

"I-I have no idea," he admitted, "I've got nothin'. Who the hell would be dumb enough to have a thing for another guy only AFTER he's already got an awesome, perfect girlfriend? I shouldn't even be thinkin' about anybody but you."

He shook his head and moved back over to sink down into the bench, putting his head in his hands. He couldn't believe the situation. Sherry was offering to let him be with her AND Piers? Why? Things didn't just work out like that.

Sherry sat down beside him. 

“That's why I had a hard time even bringing this up – I knew you'd think it was weird.” She hugged herself and drew on the floor with the toe of her hiking boot. “I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe it's just hormones.” 

Jake sighed, putting an arm around her shoulders again. 

"No, you're right — Piers does like me, and he IS alone, and I...I'd give him a chance if I wasn't already with you. I just don't understand how you're so okay with this." He glanced at her uneasily. "This isn't some test, is it?"

“Um, no.” She stared back at him like he'd grown a third eye. “Jake, we've been through so much together – why in the world would I need to test you? I know you love me.” The blond smiled warmly, snuggling under his arm. “I just think you might love Piers too,” she added sweetly, looking up at him.

The redhead's expression softened, and he turned and hugged her warmly again. 

"You don't think I'd love you any less if...?"

“Not at all.” Sherry sighed happily. Hopefully Piers would be treated soon and she could actually spend some time with him. Maybe Jake would feel better if he saw them getting along.

"You're gonna have to tell Piers yourself," Jake mumbled, flustered again. "He's not gonna believe me."

“I will,” she promised. “When I can get him alone.”

She could feel Jake shake a little — laughing, she realized. 

"You're right, it'd be way too awkward to talk to him about it with me there." 

He sat back just enough to look down at her. "...You're almost too good to be true, ya know that?"

The blue eyed woman stared back up at him and smiled shyly. 

“I try.”  


* * *

  
When Chris had gone to sleep the night before, all had seemed well. Wesker hadn't run off to work with Bill and had instead stuck around for a few beers. They'd had a bonfire on the beach and roasted marshmallows, and the kids had seemed happy with the outing. 

It was all so ideal that Chris was sure that when he went to sleep, he'd be depressed to wind up in the real world again when he awoke. Real life, where Piers was direly ill, he and Wesker had a strange relationship neither of them seemed quite able to act on, and the world was in tatters. 

Drifting back to consciousness, the brunette sighed slowly and rolled over. The chair felt a lot softer than before...and it was warm in there. He blinked and found himself looking up at a rather nice white ceiling. 

He recognized it as his and Wesker's bedroom ceiling. Sitting up quickly, Chris looked around. He...was still in the dream. He'd gone asleep here, but he hadn't awakened in real life.

"Wesker-" He turned to find that his husband wasn't in the bed. Not so unusual — probably got up earlier than him and went to make coffee. Nothing to worry about, Chris told himself, climbing out of the bed and shrugging on a tank top. He wandered into the living room, yawning. It wasn't BAD to still be here with his little dream family. He was probably just making up for lost sleep in the real world. 

"Wesker...?" He peeked into the kitchen, but there was no sign of the blond anywhere. His heart sank when he saw the empty coffee pot. 

The black wireless phone laying on the dining room table rang ominously. The screen flashed 'unknown caller' and it rang again.

Uncertainly, he picked it up and held it to his ear.

"...Hello?"

“Chris! I've been trying to call you all morning.” Leon groaned on the other end of the line. “Claire dumped me. I-I know I shouldn't be talking to her brother about it, but... Well.” He sighed heavily. “I sure as hell don't want to go out with that guy from the beach NOW.” There was another sigh. “Um. Anyway. I just wanted to let you know that you're off the hook for being my wingman. It'd just be weird now,” he added sadly.

Chris scratched his head, glancing around his empty kitchen. 

"Sounds rough, I'm sorry. She, uh. Knows you're not gay, right?" He asked sheepishly. Maybe his sister had gotten the wrong idea when he'd ended up with the soldier's phone number.

“I was DATING her, she knows I'm straight. I hope,” Leon added. There was a car door slamming in the background.

The sound matched one just outside of Chris's house.

Chris blinked and leaned to look out the kitchen window. 

"...Are you in my front yard?"

There was a long silence on the phone as the blond leaned forward in his car to look at Chris. 

“...No.”

Chris waved at him. 

"Come in here, have a cup of coffee. I think I know how to work the machine," he added uncertainly, and hung up the phone to go to the front door.


	22. Catching Up

After a few minutes, there was a shy knock on the door.

Chris unlocked it and pulled it open, holding it aside for Leon to step in. He'd forgotten up until this moment that he was just walking around the house in his boxers and tank top, but knowing that Leon wasn't interested in men made it a lot less awkward. Still, he fidgeted a little as he looked Leon over. "Claire said goodbye just like that, huh? You two seemed to really be hitting it off."

Leon shoved his hands into his jacket pocket and frowned. 

“No. I saw the writing in the sand at the beach. And when that tan guy was over last time.” He had to mean Joseph. The blond ran a hand through his hair. “I'm not upset about it, so I guess it wasn't a big surprise.” He looked around. “Sorry, are Al and the kids home? I don't want to intrude.” His shoulders slumped as he spoke. 

Chris patted one of his shoulders. 

"Al's not here. I'm pretty sure the kids are still in bed," he said, turning and stepping back into the kitchen. He could work a coffee maker, he was pretty sure. It had been years, but he'd figure it out.

The 'coffee pot' – which Chris suspected was an Umbrella invention – was extremely complicated. It had a touch screen with tons of menus and fancy coffee options – but finally he found the 'Drip Coffee' option on page nine.

Leon followed him dejectedly. 

“Maybe I should grab beers with that guy? It doesn't have to be a date, we can just hang and forget about getting dumped. A lot.” The blond settled into one of the chairs at the dining room table, leaning his elbows on it and sighing. 

"I'll still go with you if you want," Chris offered, carefully measuring coffee into the machine and adding water. It appeared to have a reusable, self-cleaning filter. Nice.

“That would be nice. You might be able to take him in a fight – you're about the same size.” Leon turned to watch him, finally breaking his low mood with a smile.

"He probably really does just want to talk about hunting and fishing and drink beer," Chris told him, pressing the drip coffee button on the coffee maker. He stepped past Leon and toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "Take your coat off, have a seat. I'm gonna check on the kids and then it's coffee time."

Leon simply gave him a thumbs up, sliding off his jacket.

Piers' bedroom was first in the hallway. It was decorated with superheroes, airplanes and army toys. Piers was curled up in his bed, hugging the metal Apache toy. He stirred when his door opened and looked at Chris sleepily. 

“Dad?”

Chris smiled at him. 

"Hey, good morning. You look like you're still sleepy."

“Where's Daddy?” The toddler clawed his way out his his blankets, dragging the helicopter along with his good arm.

He yawned and rubbed his cheek woozily, coming over to hug Chris's leg. Apparently, Wesker always woke them up.

That made sense...Chris usually woke up after him. Come to think of it, Wesker usually cooked breakfast, too. Chris scooped Piers up and hugged him, feeling strangely guilty. It seemed that Wesker took care of just about everything to run the household. How spoiled was he, to be married to a guy like that?

"He's working," he explained, turning and stepping out into the hallway to check on Jake next. "He'll be back soon, I'm sure."

“With Bill?” Piers gasped, hugging his Apache tight.

"He didn't say," Chris admitted, glancing down at the little brunette. "Daddy works really hard to take care of us, though. I'm sure it's important, or he'd be here to eat breakfast with us."

Whatever breakfast they'd manage without Wesker around, that was. The blond seemed to cook things from scratch — he had little hope of finding any frozen waffles or anything to prepare. Cereal, Al had said once that they had cereal...

He pushed open the door to Jake's room and peeked inside. The little redhead was curled up in his blankets, fast asleep.

“Jake! Wake up!” Piers yelled. “DAD'S gonna make us breakfast!” The little brunette grinned widely. He had high hopes.

Chris sat him down, feeling guiltier still. Oh, that poor kid. Chris could barely cook instant noodles without burning them. He stepped over to wake Jake, praying that Leon had some cooking skills.

Piers ran over and crawled up on the bed. He shook Jake's shoulder. "Jake wake up!"

"Whaaat?" The redhead groaned, trying to pull the blanket over his head.

Chris stepped over and pulled the blanket back down enough to see his face, amused.

"C'mon, Jake, it's time to go eat breakfast."

"I'm not-" Jake stopped dead, looking up at him with a frown. "You're not Daddy. Is he sleepin' in today?"

"He's at work," Chris sighed.

Piers hugged his helicopter closely and looked around Jake's room. 

“Dad,” He turned around to look up at Chris. “Why does Daddy have to work for breakfast? He never works for breakfast!” 

"Oh, yeah," Jake muttered, sitting up with a frown. "He said Bill would be in big trouble if he didn't go fix somethin' Bill broke. I bet that's where he is."

I bet you're right, Chris thought unhappily, straightening up and waving for both boys to follow him.

"Come on, you're both awake so it's time to go eat. Leon's over to visit, too," he added.

Piers followed quietly for a minute, gears turning. 

“If Bill broke it – he should fix it!”

"He can't," Jake said matter-of-factly. "He needs Daddy 'cause Daddy's smarter than him. Right, Dad?"

Chris smiled. 

"Of course, your Daddy's a genius."

“Leon!” Piers tore into the kitchen, immediately getting swept up into a hug by the blond. 

“Hey, Piers.” Leon smiled.

The toddler sat his toy on the table and looked up at Leon. 

“Are YOU a genius?”

“Uh, no?”

"Blond hair doesn't make Daddy a genius, his brain does," Chris told the kid drolly as he stepped past to go check on the coffee. And look at what was on the shelves. He would feel bad if he had to feed the kids cereal after Piers was so excited that he would be cooking something. On the other hand, at least cereal would be edible...

Jake climbed onto the chair beside Leon's and sat, crossing his arms. "Where's Claire?" 

“Um.” Leon frowned. “She's not here.”

“Are you gonna kiss that giant man?” Piers said loudly, staring up at Leon – whose face blanched. 

“No. No, I don't kiss guys.”

Piers just continued to stare at him silently.

"Leon likes girls, Piers," Chris told the kid frankly. He stepped over and offered the blond a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, he kisses Claire. I saw," Jake said just as frankly, looking at Leon, too.

Leon poked the helicopter on the table nervously, turning its prop. 

“And Jake kisses Sherry – I saw.” 

“Eeeew!” Piers squeaked, giggling.

"I do NOT!" Jake said angrily, glaring at him. "I don't even like to play with girls — it'd be gross to kiss one!"

"There's nothing wrong with girls," Chris sighed, stepping over to get himself some coffee as well. As casually as he could, he started looking inside the cabinets. There had to be something here that was easy to make. Preferably something that didn't need to be cooked at all...

The cabinet had a variety of canned goods like green beans and tomato sauce, as well as many types of cold cereal. Another cabinet was full of baking supplies, but those weren't very helpful.

“I'm kidding,” Leon told Jake. “I don't kiss Claire anymore. We decided to be friends instead,” he explained, sitting Piers in the chair next to him and scooping up his coffee cup.

Jake did not reply, crossing his arms and sitting silently in his chair with a scowl. Chris concluded that the kid was probably that miffed about the joke because he actually did like Sherry. It would certainly be in-character for him compared to the real Jake. 

"Hey, Leon...how's your cooking?" He turned to the blond with a somewhat pleading look. "Al usually makes breakfast. Maybe we should go out somewhere..."

Him cooking was not an option. It just wasn't.

Leon looked up in surprise, smiling. 

“I can make pancakes if you have the stuff. French toast, scrambled eggs – whatever. Breakfast's the only meal I really eat at home.”

“Dad, can I get a t-rex to fight my Apache?” Piers asked randomly.

"...T-rex would win," Jake muttered, begrudgingly joining in the conversation again even though he was still sulking.

Chris waved Leon over, very relieved. 

"Oh, thank god," he said, keeping his voice low. "I burn things even in the microwave."

The blond man smiled at him happily. 

“Do you have an apron?” He was wearing a nice black v-neck tee and light wash jeans. Chris, however...

Oh, yeah. Still in the boxers and tank top, the brunette realized awkwardly. He glanced around the room. 

"Uh. I'll bet it's in the laundry." With that, he hurried off — the laundry was a good place to find actual clothes for him to finally get dressed, too.

He returned a few minutes later in a green T-shirt and blue jeans, and offered Leon the simple gray apron he'd found in the laundry. This Wesker seemed to like gray rather than black.

Leon had already mixed up a bowl of batter and was scooping it out into a frying pan. 

“...And wouldn't be able to reach because of its short arms!” Piers said confidently. 

The phone on the table rung again, flashing 'Al' on the screen.

Chris pretty much dropped the apron and hurried to pick the phone up.

"Hello?"

“Chris. Good morning. Did I wake you up?” Wesker said on the other side. He sounded very tired. “I'm sorry, but this is taking much longer than we anticipated. I won't be home for breakfast, you'll have to eat out.”

"I've got it covered," Chris sighed. "Did you stay up all night? You sound exhausted."

“Please, eat out,” Wesker insisted. “With how much the remodel cost us, you can eat anywhere in the city.” He yawned off to the side and continued. “This is much worse than I thought. I might not be home today.” Chris could hear him cringing. “Do you think you'll be alright?”

"Uh. Well, Leon's over, so he's actually helping cook breakfast," Chris admitted sheepishly. "I was gonna go somewhere with him this evening at 7, but it's not as important as work. Still...look, you can't just work for days without sleeping."

“It's only been...I can't remember,” Wesker mumbled. “Can Claire babysit or...no, never mind. I'll be home by six, whether we fix this or not.”

Leon leaned a little closer to eavesdrop. He must have heard the 'at 7' part.

"Okay. Remember, the world won't end if you're gone a few hours," Chris told him. "Good luck, I'll see you later." He paused, then added more quietly, "Love you."

“I love you too,” Wesker replied just as softly. The phone clicked off.

Leon ferried a couple of pancakes onto plates. 

“Is everything okay?”

Chris looked down at the phone receiver with a small frown before returning it to its stand. 

"Just the usual. Work's always pulling him away." Turning and catching sight of the pancakes, he blinked. "Wow. Thank you, Leon, you're a life saver." Possibly literally, with how flammable some of the kitchen materials looked...

"You put blueberries in 'em," Jake commented, sounding pleased.

“A pancake's not a pancake without blueberries,” Leon stated, turning back to the burner. “So I'm not the only one with trouble in paradise? Great.”

Chris turned his back to the counter and leaned on it, glancing over at him. 

"We'll be okay. No relationship's perfect, but I can't imagine life without him or the kids." He noted that Jake was trying to make his pancakes into dinosaur shapes by eating the sides off. Cute.

“You ever thought you'd be married with two kids?” Leon laughed, sitting a pancake aside for Chris. “I can't even imagine. Especially with another guy. Mo offense,” he added quickly.

Piers had managed to smear syrup and blueberries all over his Apache, balancing a pancake on its props.

"I honestly didn't think I'd even get to the marriage part," Chris admitted sheepishly. "I was in the Air Force — you don't really expect to find romance there."

Jake looked at the pancaked Apache critically. 

"The props won't cut it up for you," he informed Piers. "You gotta eat it with a fork and knife."

He promptly turned back to eating his pancakes in big bites with his hands.

“Don't give up on him yet. Claire made him sound like some kind of god.” The blond man had quite the stack of pancakes going now. “Is he going to be back in time for us to go?”

"He promised he'd come back by 6 whether they sorted out the problem or not," Chris assured him, smiling halfheartedly. 'God'. The real Wesker certainly wouldn't mind being called that. Well, the old Wesker wouldn’t have, anyway. Now that Uroboros was gone, the blond man didn’t seem so obsessed with power anymore.

"In the meantime, if you want to hang out here with me and the kids, I don't mind the company at all. Unless you'll get sick of me and not wanna hang out with me at 7 too," he told Leon.

“I'd love to, actually. All I had planned today was anxiety and pacing.” Leon took the last pancake out of the pan and untied his apron.

Piers bit the pancake on the Apache, taking a bit between each prop and smiling with rounded cheeks. The kids liked the food. Phew.  


* * *

  
When Jake and Sherry came back into Wesker's safe house, it seemed almost peaceful. No more screaming or syringes.

Chris was still sleeping as peacefully as a log, Wesker at his side typing on his tablet.

Piers was awake and chatting with Claire as quietly as possible so as not to anger the blond scientist.

“...Really squeaky.” Claire giggled. Piers smiled in return, laughing softly.

“He sounds like a cool guy though.”

Jake sighed. He'd been hoping Piers wouldn't wake up and notice he'd been gone. No help for it now... The redhead stepped over by the bed, glancing between Claire and Piers. 

"Hey."

When Piers looked up, his smile faded. 

“Hey.”

Claire patted his arm and stood up. 

“Hey Jake. How are things?”

There was a rather scary growl from across the room as Wesker noticed their arrival. Without hesitation, Sherry circled around Jake and went straight for the tall blond.

Jake turned and frowned after her. He didn't really want the guy anywhere near Sherry, but he wasn't about to tell Sherry who she couldn't talk to, either. They were in the same room...

Reluctantly, he stayed put, crossing his arms and watching them out of the corner of his eye. 

"Things're...okay, I guess." He looked Claire in the eye, trying to decide if she'd known what Sherry wanted to discuss or not. With how Sherry tended to confide in Claire like an older sister...

Claire smiled brightly at him. 

“I hope it's okay, but I might need your help. That hole in the roof is too dangerous to leave open for long.” She tilted her head in Sherry's direction pointedly.

She knew.

Wesker stood up as Sherry came close, towering over her. 

“Yes?” He asked lowly, hugging his tablet under his arm.

Sherry kept her voice low enough that Jake couldn't quite make out what she was saying to his father.

The tall man's expression shifted from neutral to concern ever so slightly. He glanced slowly at Chris and nodded solemnly…then sat his tablet aside on the card table and headed out of the door, eying Jake as he passed.

Sherry adjusted Chris's blanket.

Claire turned back to Jake and grinned. 

“Well. The roof it is.”

Jake was having second thoughts about leaving Sherry to talk to Piers alone, though. He'd already left Piers to go talk with Sherry — it felt wrong to show up, say hi and just leave again. He turned to the brunette and leaned to feel his forehead. 

"Eyes still gray?" He looked at Piers' eyes next, a bit worriedly. 

“I think so,” The small man said, looking sleepily up at him. His eyes were still a pale gray, just as they should have been. Piers looked at Sherry across the room. “Is everything okay? Where's Wesker going?”

"He'll be right back," Jake said dismissively, hoping it was true. He had no idea what Sherry had said to manage to make the man leave in the first place, but he was relieved.

"I've gotta fix this for Claire real quick, but Sherry's gonna stay with you," he assured Piers, taking a step back. It was surprisingly difficult to leave — like leaving your puppy alone and closing the door while trying not to look it in the eye. It wasn't like Piers wouldn't have Sherry with him.

Sherry came back over from where Chris was, a vending machine cookie in hand. 

“Hey Piers – you look better.” She sat down carefully on the bedside and patted his arm. “Wanna split a cookie?”

“Sure,” Piers said in reply, looking from her to Jake as he backed away.

“We'll be back soon.” Claire waved as she headed out of the door.

Jake nodded at Piers and abruptly turned around, heading quickly out the door. Damn it, he really didn't want to be anywhere but in this room. That was where the people he gave a damn about were.

As they came out into the hallway, Jake saw Wesker hurrying his way back – a deep scowl on his face. He’d probably made a u-turn when he found out that whatever Sherry had told him wasn't true.

Claire cringed, stepping out in front to greet him as he approached. 

“Hey. Chris said you went to patch that hole – but it's still open.”

Jake glanced at her dubiously. Wow, she hadn't just made up the part about the hole in the roof?

Wesker slowed his pace, pausing in front of them. 

“What's going on?”

Chris's sister crossed her arms. 

“Come on Wesker. Sherry needs to talk to him. Just come help us and it'll be over soon enough.”

The tall man frowned and looked at the door to his safe house intently.

“The hallways aren't safe for ANYONE,” Claire continued. “The less zombies getting inside, the better.”

Jake held up his hands. 

"Even I'm helpin' out. Redfield would be pretty pissed off if the people he's been protecting all got zombied and we had to shoot 'em," he said pointedly. 

“Fine,” Wesker said shortly. He crossed his arms.

“Alright. We need to get some supplies – where was that hardware store?”  


* * *

  
After a brief trip to the store to get the kids dinosaur toys, Chris had spent the day like he might have before the apocalypse. Leon and him chatted over coffee, while the kids played loud combat games. Jake had a tenancy to make the dinosaurs lose to his tank.

Leon was very much like the Leon he had known for years, but there were differences. He seemed less experienced with survival anything – working as a mall cop. In general, he was a little less mature. More young at heart than he was in the normal world. Maybe the real Leon had just learned to hide it better. He did do spear fishing and hunting, so he wouldn't be dead if the world ended again.

Which hopefully never happened.

As six finally rolled around, the front door pushed open and in walked a very tired-looking Wesker. His hair was a little less smooth than usual and his eyes were red – around the blue. He looked at the two of them lounging on the couch critically at first, but forced a smile. 

“Good evening.”

“Daddy!” Piers waved at him from the floor, letting his stegosaurus fall over from its battle with the Apache.

Chris sat his coffee mug aside and stood up, heading over to greet his husband properly with a hug and kiss. 

"You better sit down before you fall down..."

"Did ya fix the stuff Bill broke?" Jake had sat up, too, still holding a toy T-rex in one hand and a toy stegosaur in the other.

“I don't think it can be fixed...” Wesker mumbled as he circled reluctantly around Chris, sitting down on the couch. He slumped slowly. “Not yet, Jake.” Turning to look at Leon, he gave a small wave. 

“Hi,” Leon replied, sitting his coffee aside as well. “Didn't you leave last night? Whoa.”

Chris took a step toward the kitchen to get Wesker some coffee, then second-guessed himself and turned back. 

"You should really get some rest," he said, exchanging a glance with Leon. He just didn't have the heart to leave his husband to watch the kids after he'd just gotten back from such a long time at work. He hadn't even slept, either.

“Is it okay if I call Claire over?” Wesker asked, glancing from Leon to Chris. “I can call her after you leave...”

“Can she bring Sherry?” Piers asked hopefully. But it was 6'o clock at night – so that was unlikely. Wesker thought so too.

“It's probably close to her bedtime, Piers. Maybe next time.”

"Of course, that's fine with me if it's fine with her to come over," Chris said, relieved. He hadn't really wanted to suggest as much with Leon right there, but Wesker looked about ready to drift off on the couch — a babysitter was necessary at the moment.

"We'll be back before midnight, probably," he added, glancing at Leon. Maybe sooner, if that guy thought this was a date.

Wesker got slowly to his feet and came over to give Chris a tight hug. 

“Have fun. Drink a beer for me.” He kissed the brunette gently. “Don't let the man have his way with Leon...too much.”

The blond on the couch blushed deeply, looking away. If he hadn’t been nervous before, he was now.

Chris was struck again by just how different this Wesker was — less guarded. He smiled at the blond, rubbing his back gently. 

"I'll defend his honor, if it comes to that," he joked. 

With a sly smile, his husband headed off towards the bedroom – probably for a shower.

Leon got up and straightened his shirt. He slid on his jacket and sighed. 

“Let's get this over with.

"C'mon, I won't let him do anything too forward," the brunette said, amused. He got his coat and slipped it on as well, heading for the door. "Wouldn't it be funny if HE stood YOU up after all of this?"

“Hey,” Leon looked at him and frowned childishly. “Don't crush my dreams.” He followed Chris out to his car, unlocking it as they got close. “I think his name is Bowser, by the way.”

"Isn't that a dog's name?" Chris raised an eyebrow, stepping over to the passenger side and climbing in. 

“Yeah. Who the hell would name their kid that?” The blond muttered, starting the car and strapping himself in. He poked at the GPS in the dash and selected a destination. “Thanks for doing this.”

"Seems like the right thing to do," Chris said, strapping his seatbelt as well. "Besides, you're starting to grow on me. I hope you'll stay in touch even though you're not seeing my sister anymore." 

He glanced at Leon and smiled. He wished he could say that he knew the feeling, but in real life he hadn't dated since before STARS, and apparently in this dream world he'd married Wesker straight out of the Air Force.

Leon beamed at him. 

“Man, I hoped you'd say that. I was worried that you'd never want to see me again once Claire dumped me – sorry if I seemed clingy,” he joked, turning out of the idealistic 'burbs onto the main drag. 

Chris shook his head and looked out the window, smiling. 

"Not at all. I'm more worried about what my sister is gonna think when she finds out we're pals. Oh, well — her loss is my gain, I guess."

“I think Claire actually meant it when she said she still wanted us to be friends, which is a first for me. My last girlfriend, Ada, never said a word – she just disappeared.” Leon frowned sadly. “I'm kind of worried that something happened to her – but that was years ago.”

"Ada?" Chris glanced at him quickly, frowning. "She probably just didn't have the guts to break up with you face to face, and skipped town." It seemed like something that Ada would do. "If Al just disappeared, I wouldn't be able to rest until I found out what happened to him," he added, thoughtful. 

“I searched around for months, but I guess she's some kind secret agent or something. No one knows anything,” Leon said sarcastically. If only he knew.

"Well, then she probably did leave on purpose," Chris reasoned. "Crimes come to light when somebody searches hard enough. I bet she just bought a plane ticket and flew off."

“I hope so.” 

They turned into a parking lot. It was busy. Leon circled the car around a bunch of drunk party goers, looking out his windshield uneasily. “This isn't one of THOSE places is it?”

Chris raised an eyebrow. 

"It's just a bar." He wondered if Leon was worried that it was a gay bar. Looked more like the kind of place where people got into drunken fights in the parking lot...

Finding a parking spot at last, Leon turned off the car and turned to face Chris. 

“Talk me out of this.”

The brunette unstrapped his seatbelt and sighed. 

"You're making too much of a big deal out of things. Listen, if you show up all nervous and jittery, he'll think YOU think it's a date."

“But if he even thinks that, that means that he's probably gay. I don't even like men,” Leon added with a sigh. “I should just call him and say that 'something came up.'” He looked at Chris sideways. 

"You should probably call him and make sure he's actually even here," Chris said drolly, crossing his arms. "We're already here — I say if he doesn't show, we should make a night of it anyway."

His friend pulled out his cell phone and dialed. He waited for it to ring and then cleared his throat. 

“Hey. Just checking if we're still on for beers.”

There was a long pause as a deep voice spoke on the other end of the line. Leon looked at Chris with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Um. Okay? Can I get the address? Oh, yeah. A text will work.” He licked his lips nervously and nodded, even though Bowser couldn't see it. “See you there.” Leon hurriedly pressed the end call button.

Chris promptly strapped his seatbelt again. 

"Did he just invite you to his house?"

“No. They're at some beach. Him and bunch of friends.” He looked at Chris worriedly. “Can I cancel now? We don't have to do this – like you said,” He gestured to the bar. “We're already here!”

Chris smiled and patted his shoulder. 

"If he brought friends, then he didn't think it was a date, Leon." He paused. "...That, and the best time to cancel was right back there when you called him."

With a groan, Leon started the car again and backed out. 

“Okay, so in college, there was this guy...” He turned and pulled back onto the main drag. “He was big and played a lot of sports – football, basketball and stuff.” The blond man sighed. “I got teamed up with him a lot and he always was super weird. He kept suggesting we do this and that, and eventually I quit playing sports.” He looked at Chris and smiled tightly. “I think his name was Bowser.”

"Wait — you know this guy?" Chris glanced at him quickly. "Maybe that's why he struck up a conversation in the first place."

“I thought he looked familiar, but he's like twice as big now. I just didn't put it together until now.” Leon took a deep breath. “Okay, we swing in, drink a beer or two, and we're gone.”

"You know, we don't HAVE to go," Chris told him. He shrugged. "It just won't be very subtle if you cancel now. I'm sure he's got plenty of other people to hang out with, if you're really not up for it."

“I promised you a beer.” The blond smiled nervously. “If his friends are there, there might be other people I recognize. Like Ada. They knew each other.” Leon looked back at the road.

Chris shrugged again. 

"Well, wherever we're going, I'm coming with you. You're my ride home," he joked.

The beach was more inviting than the bar had been. There were several large bonfires set up close to the water, with folding chairs and dried out logs pulled around them to sit on. 

The large man and some of his friends were playing Prisbee, while others sat chatting and drinking near the fires. It wasn't dark yet, but the sun had sunk low on the horizon, making the water glimmer.

Leon got out of the car and looked over it at the scene. 

“Watch your nose.” He nodded to the Prisbee flying across the beach.

Chris had carefully not mentioned the bandaid the blond wore over the bridge of his nose, but smiled now and offered a thumbs up. With how many mishaps had resulted in head injuries lately, he really couldn't be too careful.

"Well, let's go say hi," he said, starting toward the group without waiting for Leon to reply. Bowser probably would recognize him from the beach the day before. Come to think of it, the man had said something about Leon being Chris's boyfriend.

Leon scurried after him, smoothing out the sleeves of his jacket. 

“Do you see any Asian women?” He asked quietly, looking around at the groups. His eyes stopped on a familiar face in the crowd – Joseph. He knew this guy?

Bowser caught the Prisbee and stopped dead, spotting them. He tossed it to another man and started their way.

“It IS him,” Leon groaned. “I knew it.”

Chris waved at Joseph and smiled. He nudged Leon's side. 

"This's good. Maybe you'll get some closure."

“Nooo...” The blond muttered as the muscular man stopped in front of them.

“You made it.” He offered a hand to Chris. “Name's Krauser. Spec ops.”

Shaking his hand firmly, Chris offered a nod, unable to help a tiny smirk. "Krauser" did kind of sound like "Bowser", but a lot less like a dog's name. 

"Redfield. Air Force, or I was, anyway." Wait, he wasn’t ‘Redfield’ anymore in the dreams, was he? Technically it was ‘Wesker.’ Too late now.

“Nice.” The big blond grinned. He turned his attention to Leon. “Beer's over here.” He led the way back toward the fires, leaving heavy footprints in the sand. “Also got some cider.”

Joseph excused himself from the bonfire and met Chris along the way. 

“Hey buddy. I didn't know you knew Krauser.”

Chris turned and smiled at his friend, feeling a little bad. He might have barely known Joseph in real life, but apparently in this dream world, the man was his best friend — and Chris had been treating Leon like he still was instead.

"Just met him yesterday," he explained, shrugging and glancing after Leon. "...Seems like a career soldier type. Can't imagine a guy like him has a wife and kids at home," he prompted.

Joseph laughed. 

“Uh, no. But I can't really say you look the type either.” He sipped his beer and glanced after Leon. “Everything okay with you and the other Mr? Who's the pretty guy?”

"We're getting along alright," Chris said, glancing after Leon again. He was still in sight, that was good enough. He had to talk to Krauser sooner or later. "That's Leon. He was dating Claire and we got to be friends."

Glancing at Joseph, he added more quietly, "He was there the day Piers got hurt. He even came to the hospital with us — he's a decent guy, really."

“Piers got hurt?” Joseph's eyebrows went up in surprise. “Is he okay?”

Chris glanced at him, also surprised. Oh...it had been awhile since Piers broke his arm. Chris had just assumed that the people around him would have found out in the times he wasn't in the dream world. Joseph had been there that day, but he’d gone home before the incident.

"He's healing up, but he broke his arm," he said, looking down at the beach sand with a small frown. "Fell out of a tree. Sorry, I keep spacing who I've told what these days..." He brought a hand to his forehead and felt to see if the stitches were still there.

“Good grief, man. I wish you'd called me – I would've been there in a heart beat.” He looked at Leon more critically then before. “I've been busy too though, so.” He shrugged. “We should hang out more, Chris.”

The blond man was talking to Krauser, both with very serious expressions.

"There wasn't much we could do but wait, anyway," Chris said honestly, turning to Joseph. "He hit his head, too — he wouldn't wake up for hours. I'm sorry, we couldn't think about much else." That much was true. 

He wasn't sure why he felt like he had to apologize to Joseph for not...what, inviting him to be part of the crisis? Worry along with everybody else? It wasn't like he'd gone to Leon for support instead, the guy just happened to be there because Claire was.

Joseph nodded to him. 

“It's alright, I get it – your kid was in a coma. I wouldn't have called, either,” he said, rubbing his neck. “I'll have to bring him something fun. Does he have a C-17 Globemaster yet?” 

There had been a lot of airplanes hanging in Piers' room – who knew. 

The hair on the back of Chris's neck prickled. He could almost feel Leon's eyes burning into the back of his head.

"I'm sure he'd love that," Chris said. Smiling, he patted the tanned man's shoulder. "I'm gonna go get a beer. It's been kind of a long day — Al was at work until 6. I'll have to tell you about that one later." 

He started in the direction of Leon and Krauser, taking pity on the smaller blond. A beer DID sound pretty nice, actually.

“Catch you later,” Joseph said, turning to rejoin the bonfire crowd.

Leon waited for Chris eagerly, pulling a beer out of the cooler. Krauser patted his shoulder and headed off to who knew where and the blond sighed in relief, watching him go.

Stepping up beside him and snagging the beer from his hand, Chris looked after the big blond man. 

"...How'd that go?"

“He's gay,” Leon said shortly, swigging his drink. “He liked me in college and he was wondering if we wanted to 'hang out' more.” The lean man turned to Chris and groaned. “But he still knows Ada, so...” He trailed off, shrugging.

Chris raised an eyebrow, turning back to him. 

"So, what did you tell him?"

“T-that I wanted to hang out again.”

"Leon..." Chris looked at him with what he imagined was a mixture of dismay and amusement. Odd. "If you're not interested in the guy, you should be honest. And since you're straight, I'm pretty sure you're not interested."

“I'm not, but come on. I've been looking for any bit of information on Ada for years. He knows her!” He gestured after Krauser. “I won't lead him on that I'm gay, I'll just hang out for a bit,” the blond said halfheartedly. “You know. Playing Prisbee.”

Chris sighed and popped the top off of his beer, shaking his head. This could not end well. 

"It's your love life, but I feel a little bad for him."


	23. Room for Three

“I think that would have been easier on my own!” Claire grumbled loudly, storming back down the hall. With Wesker along, nothing had been agreed upon. The way the boards were turned, the amount of nails – even the freaking zombies had been a competition. What few undead were there hadn't lasted long.

Now, having stood under the hole arguing more than repairing anything, all three of them were soaked. At least Sherry was probably done talking with Piers by now. Wesker seemed very eager to get back to Chris, too – they had been 'repairing' for several hours.

"Easier maybe, but a hell of a lot slower," Jake muttered, making a beeline for the safe room door. If he had been vaguely considering trying to get along with Wesker before, this escapade had sure turned that around. He'd be glad when they weren't forced to be in the same room together.

He couldn't leave Piers alone with the man, though. Damned J'avo virus meant the little sniper and his father had to be in the same place most of the time for the moment.

He grabbed the door and pulled it open, heading inside quickly. Maybe if he didn't look behind him, he could pretend Wesker and Claire weren't coming along.

Sherry was laying down next to Piers, both facing each other and talking quietly. The blond girl sat up when Jake came in, smiling. 

“Hey. How'd it go?”

Chris looked like he was still asleep. Man. He must have been tired.

Abruptly reminded of the whole situation they'd left Piers and Sherry alone to discuss in the first place, Jake took a seat beside the bed and shrugged, looking at the two of them.

"The hole in the roof is gone, but I think half the rain in the clouds came down on our heads while we were patchin' it," he said as casually as he could. Blushing would NOT be a good thing right now — no blushing. Did Piers look bothered? Sherry seemed happy enough. Everybody on that bed wanted HIM. Wow.

Piers seemed very quiet. He hadn't greeted Jake or anything, but he wasn't flustered. Just...strangely calm.

Wesker practically sprinted into the room, checking Chris over immediately. Claire came in after him, rolling her eyes. She came over to where the three were on the bed and crossed her arms. 

“Hey.”

“Hi!” Sherry beamed. “You guys should have grabbed some towels, you're making puddles.”

Claire glanced down at her boots, tapping water off of her toe. 

“Yeah. I'm going to go change. I'll catch you guys later.” But as she turned to leave, Leon came in. He looked at them on his way past to Chris.

Wesker stepped between them, and Leon froze. 

“What do you want?”

“Easy,” the ex-agent replied, holding up his hands. “I just need to talk to him.”

“He's sleeping.”

“It's important,” Leon said firmly, staring straight up at Wesker.

“Not as important as his rest.”

The two men stared each other down for a long moment.

Jake glanced over at them and frowned. 

"Redfield's still in charge around here, not you," he told Wesker flatly. "He can always go back to sleep, right?"

Chris seemed to be sleeping deeply. He wasn't making a sound, not even snoring, just breathing deeply curled up under his blanket.

“Stay out of this,” Wesker replied coldly. He sat back down by Chris and let Leon come closer, though.

“Jeez,” Leon muttered. He leaned and gently shook Chris's arm. “Hey Chris. Are you dead?”

The brunette man offered no sign that he'd noticed.

Jake rolled his eyes at Wesker's retort, getting up and going over to the cot to retrieve a blanket. Not that he felt cold...but his clothes were soaked, and he needed to dry off. He promptly went right back over beside the bed and sat down there, hugging the blanket around his shoulders. 

Wesker looked at Chris curiously, taking his wrist just in case.

Leon frowned. 

“Did you drug him?”

The other blond frowned, too. 

“No.”

Piers sat up and looked at Chris. 

“Captain?”

Jake looked over at the people gathered around the red chair, too. 

"You could always slap him," he said drolly. Hey, it worked on Piers before when he wasn't breathing — and Chris was still breathing.

Wesker looked from him to Leon. 

“...Try it and you die.”

Sherry cringed and took Piers' hand. The brunette didn't seem to mind though, his attention was locked on his sleeping captain.

It was Leon's turn to roll his eyes now. He shook Chris harder, patting his cheek. 

“Come on. You can't slip into a coma NOW.”

Abandoning his blanket on the chair, Jake stood up and headed over to the others. Rather than attempt to slap Chris, though, he just crossed his arms and scowled at the sleeping man. 

"He's probably just half-dead tired. What's so damned important to talk about right this second, anyway?" He wasn't agreeing with Wesker, he told himself. He was NOT. It was just a valid question to ask Leon.

Chris frowned in his sleep when he was shaken, sighing softly. 

Leon gave up for the moment and turned to Jake. 

“The survivors are all in an uproar. Someone was playing the radio and heard that a military evac is passing through town. They're rallying to go out and meet it.”

“That sounds like a good plan except that last time, a bunch of them didn't make it,” Claire added, patting her brother's shoulder in concern. “We'd all have to go.”

“It'd be a miracle if half of us made it to the middle of town. There are a lot of zombies milling around now.”

Jake took a step back, holding up his hands. 

"Whoa, whoa. We can't evac anywhere. Did ya just forget the fact that a couple of us are not quite human or what? They'd shoot people like Piers on sight!" Somehow he doubted Wesker wanted anything to do with a civilian evacuation, either...but, then, somehow he doubted bullets would even slow the blond man down.

“He's right,” Wesker said reluctantly, standing up. “The military shoots first or worse. If they think that one of the group would be useful – they'll be moved to a lab.” He gestured to Sherry. “Especially with a baby.”

“So what do we do?” Leon asked the room, looking back at Chris. “That's what I wanted to ask him. The civvies aren't going to give this up and we can't go with them. They won't make it alone.”

“Maybe a few of us could escort them there and come back?” Chris's sister suggested. “We could take some of the cars from the parking garage.”

“That's not a bad idea,” Leon mumbled. He looked at Jake and Wesker. “But I should still tell Chris.”

Wesker crossed his arms.

“Come on. He's slept long enough,” the shorter blond man grumbled loudly.

Jake pointed a finger at Wesker and frowned. 

"Leon's right, he'd wanna hear about this. If you don't slap him then I'm gonna do it." 

“I'll do it – he's my brother,” Claire said, shoving Leon aside – right into Wesker. The blond in the shades pushed Leon away with a growl. Sharing space was not his specialty.

Without further hesitation, Claire backhanded Chris across the face. It was very loud. Wesker cringed.

Jake's brows rose, and he crossed his arms again. Jeez, if that didn't do it maybe he WAS in a coma...

The slap got results, though. Chris dragged an arm up to shield his face, groaning. 

"Leon...?" He asked groggily, sitting up and squinting at the people gathered around him. "Oh...back here again."

“Chris.” Leon moved back in close, leaning on the edge of the chair. “You awake now?”

The brunette sat up and leaned back in his chair, forgetting to wrap the blanket around him. Thanks to Wesker, at least the bandages on his back were new ones instead of ones that got soaked through. Still, he looked pretty ragged and tired.

"Yeah..." He went to run a hand through his hair and paused to rub his cheek. "Did somebody hit me?"

"That's all that would work," Jake informed him.

“Sorry!” Claire said from behind Leon, giving her brother a smile.

“I wouldn't wake you up if I didn't have to, but we have trouble. The survivors heard a radio call from the military saying that an evac is going through town. They want to go meet it,” Leon explained.

"What?" Chris looked at him worriedly. "We can't evac — we can't risk them even finding us..."

The civilians would actually probably fare better in the government's care than theirs. He was already taking into consideration the fact that keeping just the core group together would be a lot less mouths to feed, too.

"We should let them go if they want to," he sighed, rubbing his cheek. "They're not being kept here or anything."

“That's the problem. They want us to go with them since we have all the firepower.” Leon sat in Wesker's chair and sat back. “They can't make it on their own – but Claire thought that maybe a few of us could drive them there. There has to be a couple of cars in the parking garage that still work.”

“They could always drive themselves,” Wesker added quietly, glaring at Leon.

Chris glanced at Wesker, then back to Leon. 

"If the evac's close by, they won't need to survive out there for long," he reasoned. "We should give them the cars and a few guns and let them go. They'll go anyway whether we agree or not, right? If any of us shows up with them, the military will try to evac us too."

"They'll want you to lead 'em there," Jake told him, waving a hand in his direction. "Just like how we got here, and how we got to the base in the first place. If you stay put, I bet half of them do, too."

“It would be much easier to navigate to the mountains with fewer people,” Wesker said thoughtfully.

Leon turned to look up at him. 

“The mountains? What's there?”

The red eyed man ignored him and looked to Chris. 

“I've found a facility with the proper equipment to create a cure.”

Claire blinked slowly. Wesker was actually helping them?

Chris nodded at the blond, quite serious about it himself. He saw a cure for Piers, but he wasn't blind to the larger implications — a cure for the virus in general. A way to fix the world, or at least to spare what was left of it. 

"The civvies will be better taken care of if they evac, anyway," he reasoned. "...And we'll have to move, too, or someone might tell the military where to find us."

"So why don't we leave 'em all in here and set off some flares or something?" Jake said drolly, starting back toward the bed. "Then they're safe, we're gone, and WE get to keep the guns and cars."

Where they were going was a good question, though...

“Because there's no guarantee that they'll be picked up,” Leon added. “We need to make sure – otherwise we're just leaving them here to die.”

“If they see flares, they'll check it out. They always do.” Sighing, Claire paced back over to check on Sherry and Piers. They were just listening to the conversation. Sherry seemed to have decided to stay next to Piers since he couldn't move.

“We could also just leave a radio,” Wesker suggested. “It might be faster.”

Chris nodded. 

"They'll have a much better chance if we leave them here," he admitted. "With a radio, of course. That does present some problems for us, though."

Jake had also gone back to Sherry and Piers. He sat down on the edge of the bed and turned back toward Chris, listening.

“Supplies, fuel – all of that,” Leon mumbled, tapping his fingers on his arm. “We could pack up enough to last a long time, but it's not going to be fun.”

“Engines are also loud,” Wesker said matter of factly. “Driving several cars through town would lead the zombies away from the mall – but we would have to keep moving constantly.”

“Which we'll have to do anyway,” Leon added. “That's actually not a bad idea.”

"I was more thinking about Piers," Chris told them, "But those are valid concerns, too. If we time it right, get the cars all loaded, wait for the evac to get near and then set off the flares, that might just draw attention away from us leaving, from the zombies AND the military."

He paused, frowning. "The civvies won't want us to leave, either. I don't like it, but the best way to leave without a fuss is to leave without telling them we're not coming back."

"We could radio 'em on our way down the road," Jake called over. Hey, it was better than just plain not telling them at all, right?

“We'll need officer Chambers,” Wesker said.

“How are we going to load up cars with supplies without anyone noticing?”

Claire came back over to Chris, seeing as how Jake was with Sherry and Piers now. 

“We could wait until everyone's asleep? When's the evac coming through?”

Leon got up from the chair at last. 

“Sometime early tomorrow. That's why they're being so persistent about it. I bet telling them that we plan to radio them in the morning would calm them down for now.”

“It sounds like a plan's coming together, at least.” Claire propped her hands on her hips and looked at their leader. “What do you think, Chris?”

Chris sighed and stood, reaching for his T-shirt. 

"I think we've got a lot to do before tomorrow morning. Leon, let them know we'll radio the evac group tomorrow. We'll figure out how to load the vehicles up without drawing attention after things calm down. Wesker, if there's anything that would keep Piers from being able to travel, now's the time to say it." 

Jake reached over and felt Piers' forehead, more out of habit than anything. Was he still too sick to move? The bleeding had stopped, but he hadn't had another injection since.

“The treatment is working, but I wouldn't recommend being in a car with him untied,” The blond said coolly, returning to the 'bed' to look at Piers. “Binding his arms against his sides would make him safer. Regular treatments will keep him normal.”

Piers frowned up at him from under Jake's hand.

“I'm gonna go talk to the civvies.” Leon waved a hand on his way out, and Claire followed him until the door.

“And I'll tell Rebecca about all of this. Then maybe we can find a big enough car to haul all of us.” She frowned. “Is the jeep still okay?”

"It's outside, but yeah," Chris offered, pulling his shirt back on and smoothing it down. He ran a hand through his messy hair. "I killed the engine, so the battery should even be fine."

"I'll stay right with ya," Jake told Piers quietly, feeling his cheek next. His fever did seem to be down. If Jake was the one who had to be restrained all the time, he wouldn't be handling it half this well. 

“But what about Sherry?” Piers asked, glancing over at the blond woman watching them. “You should stay with her.”

“We'll decide seating arrangements once we have the vehicles in order,” Wesker cut in, smoothing some water out of his hair with a gloved hand. “We need something large enough for the lab equipment. Keep that in mind,” he told Claire and she nodded on her way out of the door.

Jake glanced at Sherry, too. 

"If it's gonna be big enough to be a mobile lab, there ought to be room for all three of us." 

He still wasn't sure on Piers' reaction to what Sherry had wanted to discuss, and was carefully staying neutral and not assuming anything just yet. Piers was so completely calm that he was a little worried, though. No reaction at all, no acting differently at all. Maybe he just wasn't comfortable sharing somebody with somebody else, and had declined. It was possible, right? 

Chris stepped aside toward the door, waving for Wesker to follow him. 

"This place in the mountains," he said quietly. "How far away is it?"

Wesker followed him, shaking his head. 

“Around twenty five hundred miles. It's almost across the country.”

“That sounds very far,” Sherry said sadly.

“Not even three days, if all the roads are clear and intact – and we don't run into trouble,” the tall blond replied, looking from her to Chris again.

"Those are big 'ifs'," the brunette pointed out, thoughtful. "Let's not forget about any B.O.W.s we'll run into slowing us down. Can you keep making Piers the treatments to stay steadied out even on the road, or is there a time limit to getting us there?"

Jake sat up on the edge of the bed, looking their way. 

"Yeah, let's just hope the lab you're aimin' for isn't occupied."

“If it is, I will clear it,” Wesker said firmly, aiming a glare in Jake's direction. “But yes. With all the damage to the roads and cities – I'd guess much longer. Maybe a month even, considering supply stops and avoiding infested areas.” He turned back to Chris once more. “Making the treatment will not be an issue as long as I have electricity. An RV or utility van would be ideal.”

"If there aren't any around, we could probably find a generator in a store somewhere. Hardware supply, maybe," Chris mused. "...Okay. Right this moment, we need to focus on getting ready to leave. That means finding vehicles and loading them up without being seen by the civvies. We'll also need at least a few signal flares to be sure they're found by the evac group.

He turned to Jake. "I need a few of you to go shopping. I'll make a list." 

The redhead raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

Wesker brushed his long fingers on his chin thoughtfully. 

“I'll come with you.” He took hold of Chris's arm. “Generators are too noisy – the equipment I need to run can be ran off of solar panels instead. We should go to the hardware store first.”

Thanks to all of his time spent in the little dream world, Chris didn't mind the hand on his arm — or try to shrug it off, either. He nodded and took a step toward the door. 

"Jake, you keep an eye on Piers," he called over his shoulder, even though he was sure that's what the redhead would be doing anyway.

Sherry watched them go and stood up. 

“Well, I think I'm going to go help Claire find a car.”

Piers sat up suddenly and grabbed her arm. 

“I'm sure she can find one.”

The blond stared down at his hand and then up to his face. He was wide eyed and blushing, eyes flicking in Jake's direction.

“Um. Don't worry. You'll be okay – Jake's here.”

The redhead was still sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the door and avoiding looking at either of them now that they were alone. How exactly did you start this conversation? 'So is the three-way a go?' 

Peeling Piers' fingers off of her arm, Sherry laughed. 

“It's okay, I'll be back soon.” She headed for the door, pausing to kiss Jake's cheek. “Be nice,” she whispered back to him as she went out the door.

Piers stared after her, finally breaking his calm with a sad expression.

Jake watched the door close and sighed, picking up the edge of the blanket he'd grabbed and drying off his hair just to have something to do. 

After what felt like a very long, awkward minute, he peeked around the edge of the blanket at Piers.

"Looks like it's just us for a bit."

The small brunette glared back at him. 

“I don't even know what to say to you. How...what did you DO to make her agree to this? She's great – don't mess it up.”

"Huh?" Jake pulled the blanket off of his head and frowned. "Look, I don't know how she told it, but this whole thing was her idea. She didn't even know I liked you when she brought it up."

“I find that really hard to believe,” Piers sighed. He shook his head. “She said she knew you liked me and that it was 'okay' because she 'didn't mind sharing you.'” The gray eyed man turned to face him straight on. “She's pregnant, Jake.” His frown softened. “Please don't mess up your lives on my account. I can make it on my own. I have before.”

"But you don't have to," Jake told him, frowning still. Apparently Piers didn't believe him when he'd promised not to do anything earlier. From the brunette's perspective, he had to admit that it looked fishy, but he wasn't THAT much of an asshole. "She WANTS you with us — she was afraid to suggest it to me because she thought I'd feel like she was pushin' me into it!"

“That doesn't even make sense!” Piers said, shaking his head. “Why would she do this? IS she pushing you into this?” He looked up at him, confused. Scooting closer, he reached out and took Jake's hand. “You two are great together — what if I mess it up? I-I don't want to mess it up.” He took a deep breath, eyes tearful.

Jake blinked, squeezing his hand. He hadn't really expected the big gray tearful eyes trained on him, and it was distracting. He hated to see Sherry crying, too. 

"She wouldn't push me into anything I didn't want," he promised, troubled. "Look, I was honest with her. Said I liked you, but we weren't gonna do anything, because we didn't want to hurt her. You know what she told me?"

“To do whatever keeps you from leaving her?” Piers said meekly. He had to be joking...right?

Jake looked at him unhappily. 

"Ya really think I could? I can't imagine life without her. She said if she likes you, and if I like you, too...why can't we all be happy?" 

Piers looked at him intently, scanning over his face. 

“This just feels so surreal. I keep thinking I'm hallucinating again.” He looked away. The small man looked like he had been through hell. His face had dried blood caked on it, his eyes were strained and tired looking – he even looked thinner than before. “But you have to promise me you'll never leave Sherry. Not for me, not for anybody.” Piers locked eyes with him again, eyebrows determined. “Promise.”

"If I ever even consider it, I don't deserve her," Jake said flatly. He squeezed Piers' hand and added more gently, "I promise I'm not goin' anywhere. Not away from her OR from you. Okay?"

Piers nodded, sighing in relief. 

“Hey!” A sudden voice from behind them made the soldier flinch.

That dangerous looking tattooed man was hanging his head in the door, holding a legal pad. 

“Supply list, kids.” He came inside and offered it to Jake – without comment on them still holding hands.

As nonchalantly as possible, the redhead reached over with his free hand and snagged the list, still holding Piers' hand with the other. 

"Thanks. Wesker and Redfield said they were headin' to the hardware store," he told the tattooed man. "I'm supposed to stay with Piers." He paused, looking at Billy — Billy? He didn't really look like a Billy, but Jake was pretty sure that was his name — thoughtfully. "Did Claire already tell you what's goin' on?" 

“No. Chris said to give you the supply list.” He shrugged and looked at Piers critically. “You look better. Got that seizure thing under control?”

Frowning, Piers nodded slowly.

Billy nodded in return, crossing his arms. Jake noticed at the small brunette on the bed looked over the large tribal tattoo with interest. “I'm amazed all of us aren't infected. Sorry it's you.” 

“It's not that bad. Just crave brains a lot,” Piers joked.

To their surprise, Billy smirked. He looked back down at Jake. 

“Seems good enough to walk – let's go.”

Jake had been glancing at the list. He looked up quickly at that comment, though. 

"He can't lug supplies, he's sick," he protested, frowning. "And just lost a lot of blood."

“Then we'll carry him and he can sit and watch,” Billy offered, already unstrapping Piers. “If we're gonna pull this off, we need everyone's help. There's only what, nine of us?”

Piers happily slipped an arm over Billy's neck, pointing to his ankle. 

“Down there, too.”

Jake moved to unfasten the ankle strap, still not too sure about this plan. 

"The civvies can't see him," he warned. Piers was all covered in blood, there were marks on his face, and his right hand still didn't look quite normal. 

Picking Piers up princess-style, Billy nodded. 

“The civvies are confined to their safe house because 'there might be stragglers.'” He circled the bed and headed for the door. “We're supposed to load up some stuff on a cart and meet Claire down in the garage.”

Piers hugged around his neck shyly, looking around. He hadn't been out of the room in days. The large hole in the floor, patched sloppily with boards, caught his attention as they passed it. 

“So Claire DID tell you something.”

“Just to meet her with supplies.”

"Yeah," Jake said drolly, frowning. He felt like he should be carrying Piers. What if Billy dropped him? With arms like his, that wasn't very likely, but Jake felt responsible for his safety, so he worried anyway. "We should drop by the clothes store and change real quick."

“Alright,” Billy said shortly, veering off to the nearest store – PC Jenny's. He sat Piers gently on a display couch, patting his shoulder. “I'm gonna grab some duffel bags. Be right back.” He waved a hand at Jake as he passed. “There a sports section around here? Rebecca wanted a new first aid kit.”

"There's a Big 6 over that way," the redhead told him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "Check for any of that gross freeze-dried camp food while you're there."

Billy waved again and was gone.

Piers sat on the sofa. He glanced around at the store in bewilderment and then over at Jake. 

“Wow.”

Jake stepped over and looked at him uncertainly. 

"What?"

The brunette blinked hard and sat forward, rubbing his forehead. 

“Moving made my head hurt.” He cringed and got up, quickly bracing himself on the couch. “Um. That guy's nicer than I t-thought he would be.”

Jake was at his side in seconds, a hand on his shoulder in case he lost his balance. 

"You don't have to move around — sit down, I'll grab some clothes for ya," he offered, tilting his head to get a better look at the brunette's expression. 

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” Piers said, backing up a step. He placed a hand on Jake's shoulder too. “I just wanted to help.” Big gray eyes looked up at him, blinking tiredly. “I'll be careful. Billy's right – we don't have much time.” He patted Jake's arm and gave him a little smile. “Go change.”

The taller man sighed a little. 

"Yeah. Sorry, I just..." He shrugged, looking from Piers' pale eyes to one of the bloodstains on the front of his shirt. "I don't wanna see you get hurt anymore." 

He frowned unhappily. Piers probably just wanted some control over what he did for once. People had been pushing him around and telling him whether he could even leave the room or not since he'd gotten to the original base... 

Swallowing hard, Piers leaned up on his toes and kissed Jake's cheek. He immediately blushed and looked at the floor, shifting on his feet unsteadily. 

“I-I better go change too. Billy's probably on his way back by now.”

Jake turned his face back upward again, though — and kissed him gently, a lot more gently than one would expect. 

But Piers' face slipped right out of his hand as the brunette toppled over like a log.

Normally Jake's reflexes would've been quick enough to catch him, but he was a tad distracted. Kneeling quickly by the brunette, he patted his cheek. 

"Piers! Hey, say somethin'..."

Piers groaned and rubbed his head, sitting back up. 

“I-I'm fine. Just...” He shook his head and crawled back onto the couch. “G-go change.” The petite man was blushing profusely and holding his head in his hands.

Realizing that the kiss had been the cause of all this, Jake felt his face flushing as well. 

"Yeah...you stay here, I'll be right back," he mumbled, hopping to his feet and hurrying off down the nearest aisle. 

Only to promptly hurry across the room to the aisle across from it. Of all the times to be in the middle of a new awkward romance, now was THE most inconvenient. At least Piers hadn't been horrified to get kissed, but still...bad timing.

It didn't take long for Jake to pick out some clothes for Piers — similar ones to the outfit he was wearing, since he seemed to like the cargo pants and soft gray sweatshirt — and to bring them back to the couch. He sat them down and retreated again to change clothes real quick, unsure what exactly he should say right now anyway. Piers certainly wouldn't want his help changing clothes.

“So, you like 'em short, cute – superhuman.” Billy looked up slowly from where he was knelt on the floor at the end of the aisle, a large duffel bag stuffed with odds and ends in front of him. He offered Jake a black jacket.

"Shut up," the redhead grumbled, flustered. He accepted the jacket, though, pulling it on. "How long have you been here, anyway?"

“The whole time,” Billy said casually. “This place has a hiking section right over there.” He jerked a thumb vaguely behind him. 

Jake responded by slapping a palm to his forehead. He made no comment, though, only shaking his head a little and turning to pick a new scarf from the shelf for Piers. This one was a gentle shade of gray with white squares on it. He looked at it and sighed.

The tattooed man stood up and offered Jake an empty duffel. 

“I got the first aid kit, blankets and flashlights. I'm gonna go check out that sporting store for dried food.” He nodded to Piers. “Does he need anything from there?”

Jake looked from the scarf to him. 

"See if there's any dried blueberries. Or astronaut ice-cream — Sherry said she loves that stuff." He took the duffel, frowning. "Hey, don't mention me and Piers to anybody yet. People have enough to worry about."

Billy looked at him evenly, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder. 

“Your girlfriend know?”

Jake scowled at him. 

"Yeah, not that it's any of your damned business." He slung the empty duffel's straps over his shoulder and turned to head back to Piers.

“Hey,” Billy called after him. 

Sighing, the redhead paused and glanced back over his shoulder. 

"Yeah, what?"

“It's not that big of a secret.” Billy just gave him a shrug and headed off.

Jake dropped by a couple of other aisles to grab a few things and put them into the duffel, then returned to the couch where Piers was. 

Piers was still sitting on the couch, looking woozy. His head was propped up on one elbow. He looked over at Jake when as he returned. Sitting up, he cleared his throat. 

“I'm sorry.”

The redhead stepped over and placed the duffel beside Piers on the couch. Turning, he slipped the new scarf carefully around behind the smaller man's neck and wrapped it once.

"I'm not."

Piers just blushed again, watching the scarf. He patted it with a hand once it was in place. 

“The whole time I was in the military, I spent every day trying to keep everything hidden.” Piers stared down at the duffel bag sadly. “Now I feel like I want to tell everybody everything.” He shook his head. “But at the same time, I don't want them to know.” Slumping, he leaned on the couch edge again.

Jake sank down onto the seat beside him, leaning back and crossing his arms. 

"You're a guy and I like you," he said matter of factly. "We're not in the military, and Sherry's okay with it — the others are just gonna have to learn to deal." He tried to imagine having to tell people he liked men all the time while secretly being attracted to women. Sounded frustrating for everybody involved.

“I'm not worried about Chris or the others,” Piers said, turning his head to stare at Jake. “It's your dad.”

Wesker. Jake scowled at the mention of him. 

"He doesn't get to tell you what you can do," he said flatly. "It'd be better if you tell him straight-out, though, or he's gonna assume something bad. You know he actually accused me of hurting you?"

“Jake.” Piers scooted close to him, resting an arm on the back of the couch. He looked at the redheaded man evenly, gray eyes deep and thoughtful. He was about to say something, but stopped and shook his head. “Did you get me some clothes?” Turning away, he sighed and pulled the duffel up onto his lap.

"I sat 'em on the couch for you," Jake informed him, pointing at the small folded stack of clothes there. "I can get different ones if you want..." 

“R-right.” Piers pushed the duffel back onto the floor and leaned over to grab his clothes. “Hey, I like gray,” He mumbled softly, patting the hoodie on top of the pile. “Thanks.” Sitting quietly for a minute, he glanced over at Jake. “Sherry's dad was Wesker's best friend.”

Jake leaned an elbow on the arm of the couch and propped his chin up on it. 

"I wouldn't know. Guess Sherry doesn't, either, or she probably would've mentioned something like that." He frowned distantly. "...She said her dad's research killed him. Wonder if Wesker had anything to do with that."

“I don't know – but he was worried about her when he noticed that I liked you. He took me aside and told me to keep everything to myself – that I'd mess everything up if I told anyone. Hurt Sherry. I thought he was just being an asshole.” 

Piers rubbed his neck with a hand. “I didn't think you liked me at the time and we sort of got to talking. He thought Chris was the same way toward him...but I don't know.” Piers looked at him again, eyebrows sad. “I really hoped it wouldn't be the same thing for me and you. And now you kissed me.” 

He smiled bitterly, a tear escaping down his cheek. “I really feel for him. Especially since he reminds me of you.”

Jake wasn't sure he had a response for that bit of information about his father. He did know that seeing Piers upset really bothered him, though, so he turned and put his arms around the brunette.

"I don't know my dad very well," he admitted. "Just met him, really. Don't you feel guilty just because things are working for you and not for him, alright? He has to work that out for himself."

Piers turned and hugged him in return. 

“I know.” He relaxed in the redhead's arms, leaning his head against Jake's chest. “I just know it'll end badly for him. After everything he did, there's no way the captain would consider him. I guess he deserves that,” he added uncertainly.

“Come on, guys. We're running out of time,” Billy called grumpily over to them, pushing a trash cart down the aisle. It was stacked with boxes and gallons of water on the bottom. He shoved it past them toward the door they all came in earlier.

Piers let go of Jake, cheeks tinting pink. 

“I can c-change later,” he told Jake as he shoved his change of clothes into the duffel again. “We should go.”

Doing his best not to grumble, Jake got to his feet and slung the duffel over one shoulder. Then he turned and scooped Piers up from the floor, holding him cradled against his chest. 

"What's left?" He asked Billy, frowning. They really had been spending more time than planned here, but he couldn't just ignore Piers. 

“Garage,” came the short reply. The tattooed man ahead of them turned around a corner to some kind of loading hallway, which slanted to the lower levels. At least they didn't have to drag the cart down the stairs.

Piers looped an arm over Jake's shoulders, but kept facing forward. He leaned his head against Jake. 

“Didn't Sherry say she was going to help Claire?”

"Yeah — hope she's there, too," the redhead replied quietly, stepping after Billy. "You okay?"

Piers nodded. 

“Yeah, actually. Thanks.” He smiled weakly.  


* * *

  
The garage was massive. It had several winding floors and was fairly devoid of vehicles. Jake could see Claire across the garage, stacking boxes into a medium sized RV. She was chatting casually and smiling. Sherry was probably perched inside.

“Hey.” Billy waved a hand to her from where they were, stopping with the cart. “I'm going to go check on Rebecca and grab some more stuff – we'll be back.” Without waiting for Claire to respond, he doubled back past Jake and Piers and was gone.

Claire sat one more box into the RV, dusting her hands on her shorts. She headed their way to get the cart that Billy had been pushing and beamed at them. 

“Hi guys.”

"Hey," Jake replied cautiously, a bit taken aback by how happy she seemed. He had no doubt that Sherry had talked to her about him and Piers at some point, but he didn't exactly expect the others to be accepting of the odd arrangement, at least at first. 

He glanced inside the RV to see if Sherry was in there.

The cute blond leaned out and waved at them. She was sitting on the floor with her legs outside, boxes stacked beside her. Sherry hopped down and came over, smile dimming. 

“Hey Piers, are you okay? We have some baby wipes if you wanna wash some of that blood off.” She reached up and rested a hand on his arm.

He nodded in reply. 

“That'd be nice. I feel like an infection waiting to happen.”

Sherry smiled and went back to climb into the RV. Claire pushed the cart over and started unloading it. 

“There's a table and bench in there – but there's also a bed in the back if you want to lay down,” she said to Piers as she worked.

Jake nodded and hugged Piers closer to his chest to climb up the RV steps with him. The doorway was narrow.

"You could change clothes back here before everybody else shows up," he suggested to the brunette, heading for the back end of the vehicle and glancing at Sherry as they approached.

She followed them, holding some cans and a can opener. 

“I have some real food for you, too.” 

Piers looked back at her curiously. 

“Coconut milk and...?”

“No-bean chili,” the blond said happily. “It's not the cheap stuff, either.”

“Awesome.” Piers said, smiling in excitement. It had to be better than pre-apocalypse pastries.

Jake placed him carefully onto the Queen-sized bed in the back of the RV. It was really pretty soft and comfortable-looking — surprising for an RV bed. The redhead slung the duffel off of his shoulder and placed it on the bed, pulling out Piers' new clothes. 

"You...got this?" He asked awkwardly, gesturing to the clothes. He was pretty sure Piers could change on his own, but after he just fell over in PC Jenny's before...

Sherry scooted past him and crawled up onto the bed, plunking down cross legged by Piers and waving casually at Jake. 

“We'll be fine. Look,” she held up the last can she had been carrying. “I have peaches too!”

Piers smiled and nodded, watching her eagerly open the cans. He looked back up at Jake and blushed. 

“Um. I'll figure it out.”

Jake shrugged, pulling a couple of small bottles out of the duffel as well. It was no-rinse shampoo he'd found in the camping section.

"Here, thought this might come in handy." He handed a bottle to each of them and abruptly turned and headed toward the front of the RV to see if Claire needed any help loading the rest of the stuff.

The auburn haired woman was busy unloading all of the water from the bottom of the cart. She looked up when he came back to the door. 

“Are they settled in? Leon seems to think we should leave sooner then we planned. I guess they got the radio and flare situation figured out already.”

"Yeah, the sooner we leave the less chance the evac military guys see us," Jake pointed out. Frowning, he adjusted his gloves. "Where's Redfield?"

“On a date with your dad,” Claire muttered, dropping the gallons of water into the RV. “They had some shopping to do.”

"Lovely." Jake stepped over to help her. "Listen..." He lowered his voice, glancing at the RV. "I hate to say it, but somebody's gotta get the straps from that safe room. If they're anywhere near there, we should radio 'em and let them know."

“My radio's on the dash – help yourself,” Claire said, returning to the cart for the last two water jugs. 

Jake nodded and headed for the front of the RV. He hated that they had to tie Piers up again, but if he and Sherry were in such close quarters and there was a chance that she could get hurt, bringing the straps along was a must. 

With any luck, Wesker's treatments really would keep the brunette steadied out, and he wouldn't need to be strapped down again anytime soon.


	24. Moving Out

"We should take along some extra clothes and blankets," Chris said, looking around at the various stores in the mall. "This place is so well-stocked, it's easy to forget there won't be much of those on the road." 

It was too bad they had to leave the mall, but Piers depended on them reaching the mountain lab. Besides, one thing the mall didn't have much of was food.

“Mmhmm,” Wesker replied absently, following after him like he always did. He was still soaking wet, but he seemed to have calmed down from his earlier excursion with Claire and Jake. The blond had wasted no time in grabbing several small solar panel kits along the way.

Chris led him into the nearest clothing shop — Tacy's — and paused by the door. 

"You should change into something dry. You don't seem to feel cold much, but you might be getting the panels wet," he said, glancing down at the boxes Wesker was carrying.

Wesker looked at them too for a long moment. 

“I suppose.” He headed into the store, laying the panels down on a checkout stand. Looking around, the blond turned back to him. “Don't wander.”

Chris sat down on the floor beside the checkout stand, leaning against the wall there. 

"I'll be right here."

Wesker watched him for a moment like he might not believe him, but turned and began stripping off his wet jacket and shirt along the way. Like the occasional bits of skin that showed on his wrists, his entire back and arms were covered in the same small slit shaped scars. He paused at an end shelf and picked up a blazer. It was medium gray and fitted, with pockets above each hip. With a shrug, he laid it over his arm and disappeared into an aisle.

Chris looked at the discarded clothing on the floor for awhile, his mind drawing unhappy parallels between this and the dream world. If Wesker managed to make a cure for the world, would that make up for nearly destroying it?

Wesker returned quickly. He had changed into a light gray button up sweater, a pair of brown trousers, and his usual gloves and boots. The tall man slipped on the tailored blazer as he approached. Lastly, he put his sunglasses back on. 

“How are you feeling?”

Chris looked up at him, startled. In the gray sweater he looked so much like that other Wesker, the one Chris was married to. 

"Tired," he said, starting to get to his feet. "No time to slow down, though..."

“We still have hours before we absolutely have to leave. We're making good progress.” Wesker knelt and pushed him gently back to the floor. “Rest if you need to. I can gather whatever supplies we need.”

"If we could leave sooner, we should, though," the brunette sighed, looking up at him. Wow — gray really suited him. Chris blinked and looked away, glancing around them. What else did they need? "My whole team's working on this. I can't just sit here," he said.

“You can if you need to – I'm here,” Wesker reassured him. “Just tell me what you need.” The blond seemed as calm as ever – almost a little tired. It was hard to tell with his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses all of the time. “You aren't 100% yet, Chris. Don't push it – or you'll really be useless,” he added matter of factly. 

"There's gotta be something left to do," Chris said tiredly, half to Wesker and half to himself. 

He went over the list of things they had gotten already. Food, water, clothes, first aid supplies, blankets, select items from the hardware section...

"The RV," he said, looking up at Wesker again. "Grab some spare parts for it. Belts, fuses — the little stuff that might be hard to replace on the road." If they were really trekking for a month or more, their vehicles were going to have to keep running.

“Good idea.” Wesker nodded, sounding a little surprised that Chris came up with it. He grabbed Chris's arm and pulled him to his feet. “You can sit in the display chairs – it'll take some time to figure out what the RV can use.”

A bit surprised in return that Wesker sounded so approving of the plan, the big brunette let himself get pulled to his feet and then ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at the solar panel boxes. 

"Okay. I'm okay, you know. I've had a lot worse." 

Wesker led him along to the car section without comment. There were lots of brand new leather car seats on display – he had his pick of the place. But Wesker practically pushed him into a chair that was in view of the parts section. He seemed determined to keep Chris in his sight.

The brunette didn't protest, although he did wince a little when his back touched the back of the seat. Between the fight with that Licker and his distressingly frequent tendency to get hit in the head lately, some aspirin was probably a good thing to look for next.

"We have to let the civvies out and leave them a radio so they know the real plan once we've left," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Seems like something's gonna go wrong..."

“The flares alone will catch the military's attention,” Wesker said, looking down at Chris in concern. “Is your head hurting again?”

Chris looked up at him and smiled wearily. 

“All of me hurts. I'll get some painkillers from the first aid kit once we're on the road...it's fine.”

Wesker slipped off his new blazer and laid it over Chris, tucking it up over his shoulders. 

“I'll be quick.” He hesitated for a moment leaned over the large brunette, but went on his way to the aisles quietly. 

Chris watched him go, a bit surprised about the gesture with the coat. Despite what he'd told Piers, he wasn't exactly sure he'd call him and Wesker 'together' at the moment. More like they'd come to an understanding, although definitely not in the way Leon thought.

He was just starting to doze off in the chair when a jingling sound snapped him back awake. The radio was ringing in the pocket of Wesker's jacket. 

Wesker stopped just at the edge of the parts aisle and pulled it out to answer it. 

“What?” Well, that was short. No over and out or anything.

"Hey." Jake's voice sounded over the mic. He didn't exactly sound thrilled to be calling.

The tall blond paced back closer to Chris, a mild look of irritation spreading on his face. 

“Jake. What is it now?”

"You guys anywhere near the safe room?" The redhead asked flatly. "We're gonna need those straps from the bed, unless you've got other ideas how to tie Piers up without hurting him."

Chris glanced at the sound of Piers' name, but said nothing.

Wesker's back straightened. 

“Piers? Is he alright? The treatment wasn't ready...” He began to pace back and forth along the aisle. “I should have tested it more thoroughly.” He stopped abruptly. “I'll go get them and bring them to you – keep him away from the others.”

"He's perfectly fine, just plannin' ahead," Jake said firmly. "Take your time."

With a grumble, Wesker clicked off the radio and shook his head. He muttered under his breath and shoved the radio into his pocket – vanishing to the aisle quickly. 

"Everything okay?" Chris glanced after him. "He mentioned Piers."

“False alarm, we need to get the straps on the way back. Just in case,” came the low reply from somewhere behind the spare tires and car floor mats.

Chris sighed slowly and brought a hand to his forehead again. His head was throbbing — courtesy of that board from earlier, no doubt. 

"Piers is only in this mess because of me. I hope you can help him."

Slowly, Wesker came back around the corner of the aisle. He lingered there and watched Chris from afar. 

“So do I.” He took a step closer, a box of fuses in his gloved hand. “Sometimes, I-” He cut himself off abruptly and frowned. “Hm.” He sat the fuses on the floor and went back out of sight.

Chris looked after him, a bit curious what he'd been about to say. He waited patiently until the blond returned, still looking in his direction. 

"You what?"

Wesker looked up at him neutrally. 

“I found the wire cutters.” He held up a small emergency car kit.

Chris started to get up from his seat, too tired to argue about the abrupt subject change. 

"Those will really come in handy..."

The red eyed man pulled a handcart off of the wall and stacked some tires on it, adding the fuses and tool kit on top. Then off he went again.

Chris sighed and slowly made his way over to examine the unimportant little items lining the counter by the register. Keychains, little tiny fake hunting knives that would break under real use, that sort of thing. 

He vaguely considered looking for some cigarettes, then remembered Sherry and her baby and decided against it. Cigarettes were a little too close to alcohol, anyway, and he wasn't touching that anymore.

Wesker found him standing leaned against the counter near the register, looking out at the store's overly-zealous clothes displays distantly.

Wesker came over and sat a box of parts on the counter. Much to Chris's surprise, he didn't dart off again. Instead, he stood looking over the store too.

The brunette slowly looked over at him. 

"Having no home base is gonna take getting used to."

Wesker nodded. 

“The RV will do for now, but yes. This mall would be ideal.” He looked around at the mall and then back at Chris. “But the supplies are not as endless as they seem. It provides a false safety.”

The Lickers had busted in easily enough. Even enough zombies clawing at the caged door would break through eventually.

His former rival moved closer. “The facility in the mountains is well built – we should be able to stay there for some time.”

Chris nodded. 

"...I was thinking, we should travel in steps," he said, glancing at the blond again. "Scout ahead and sweep for supplies with the Jeep, then bring the RV in. Repeat. Slower, but safer...we're not all in that great of shape."

“I agree. The RV will have my lab set up inside – we can't afford to lose it. Not now. Piers needs consistent treatments if he's going to make any progress.” Wesker leaned on the counter as well, still watching Chris. He wove his fingers together. “He's doing well.”

"Is he?" Chris frowned, remembering the bleeding eyes. That hadn't exactly seemed like progress. "You aren't just saying that for my benefit, are you?"

Wesker smiled slyly, but it faded as soon as he realized it, and he grew serious again. 

“No. He's as stubborn as you are. I like it. It makes the whole process much easier.”

"He's tough," Chris said, pushing away from the counter with a small wince, "but he's been through hell. Try to go easy on him, please." He glanced down at the supplies Wesker had put on the counter top. "Are we ready to go?"

Wesker cocked his head and frowned curiously at him. 

“Chris.” He extended a hand and placed it next to the other man's instead of actually touching him. “I'll take care of him. He'll be cured – I promise,” he said somberly. Retrieving his hand, he picked up the box and went to sit it on the hand cart. “Yes. We can go.”

"Safe house, then the garage," Chris said, bothered. He kept forgetting that Wesker was used to him being the enemy. The dreams had gotten Chris so used to being close to the blond man that it was confusing.

Wesker looked back over at him. 

“We need to stop and get the straps along the way. How's your head?” The blond man seemed very concerned with Chris's head in particular – probably because of his part in injuring it.

The brunette stepped over beside him and braced a hand on the cart. 

"Throbbing," he admitted, mustering a small, strained smile. "I'm pretty sure whatever damage could happen already happened back in China with the amnesia, though. Pain I can handle — let's go."

The blond's eyes followed Chris's hand up his arm and to his face. Wesker stared at him. He did that a lot. Then he nodded a small nod. 

“Yes.”  


* * *

  
“Well. I guess that's that,” Leon said, turning to look at Chris. The RV had barely been around the corner of the mall before the military had arrived. The team had set off the flares and left a radio as planned – but clearly the flares would have been enough.

They had parked on a hillside above the mall to keep the military from spotting the movement of the RV, but it was probably safe to move anyway. Down below, the civvies were being loaded into APCs and handed supplies. It seemed like they would be well looked after, at least.

“We should go,” Wesker said from somewhere behind the two. “It will be light soon.”

"Yeah," Chris agreed, glancing up at the slowly lightening sky. "Did anybody hear what direction the evac group is going next? It'd be best if we don't run into them later." He knew Wesker had a particular direction in mind for them, but they could loop around if it kept the military out of their hair.

“North, according to their radio transmission.” Leon got up and dusted off his knees. “Which way are we supposed to be heading?”

“Southwest. It won't be an issue.” Taking Chris's arm, Wesker pulled him to his feet lightly. 

The brunette didn't protest; he actually felt like he might need the help at the moment. So many exhausting things had gone on the day before, and then he'd only slept for maybe a few hours last night before going into preparations.

"Okay, good. Jeep takes point, scouts ahead, then the RV follows," Chris told Wesker and Leon both. "We can rotate who scouts."

Both nodded and Leon split away from them to return to the Jeep.

Wesker paused to open the front RV door for Chris. 

“Am I driving?”

"Do you need to be working on anything for Piers?" Chris asked in return. He was tired, but if Wesker's skills could be put to better use, then Claire could drive, or Billy, or Rebecca.

The tall blond leaned on the door and thought for a moment. 

“I suppose, but you can't drive at the moment. Let me fetch someone from the Jeep.” He turned on his heel and disappeared in front of the RV.

Chris leaned against the side of the RV, trying to decide if he had the strength to crawl into the passenger seat on his own. If nothing else, he could hold the map for the driver.

Wesker returned shortly, Claire in tow. She glared at the blond's back the whole way. The blond man came over and closed the passenger seat's door. “Come on. There's a second bed under the dinette.”

Chris's sister grumpily climbed up into the driver's seat.

The brunette held up a hand. 

"I will...let me talk to Claire for a minute." He turned and opened the side door again, looking inside.

His former rival nodded and went into the back door of the RV.

Claire leaned over the steering wheel and looked at Chris when he opened the door. 

“Hey.”

"Hey," her brother said wearily. "I'll take over as soon as I'm not falling asleep on my feet. I know you didn't sleep much last night, either."

“It's no big deal – I just don't like Wesker telling me what to do,” she said honestly, rolling her eyes. “He still thinks he's in charge around here since he beat up Leon.” She looked over the dashboard and sighed.

Chris brought a hand up to his face and rubbed at his eyes. 

"...I-I'll talk to him about it later. Leon shouldn't be driving — he's gotten even less sleep lately than me. I'll get Billy or Rebecca to do it." He sighed, turning to head over to the Jeep. 

Claire was going to object, but shrugged it off. All of them were tired.

“...I can drive it,” Leon said to Billy with a smile. 

“Your eye bags are saying otherwise,” the brunette replied, squinting at Leon critically. “Rebecca, back me up here.” 

The petite brunette patted Leon's shoulder gently. 

"You can take the next turn at the wheel. It wouldn't help any of us if you fell asleep while driving," she reasoned. Leon looked remarkably fresh-faced for somebody who was dead on his feet, but she was beginning to realize that the guy ALWAYS looked good. Especially his hair. She'd have to get some pointers.

"Leon..." Chris stepped over slowly, a hand pressed to his temple. "L-let somebody else drive. Please."

“Chris.” Leon looked over at him, concerned. He opened the car door and slid out onto his feet. “Are you alright?”

Rebecca frowned and moved over to get a better look at the brunette as well. 

"Does your head hurt?"

"Yeah, has for awhile," Chris admitted, looking at the two of them apologetically. "I-I got hit with a board earlier; knocked me down. I just need some aspirin."

Rebecca gave him a stern look. 

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner? You could have a concussion."

Leon grabbed Chris's shoulder. 

“You should sit down.”

Taking advantage of Chris being a distraction, Billy silently scooted over to the driver's seat. He leaned his arm on the door and looked down at the three of them with little interest. 

“There are zombies wandering around here.”

Leon turned and frowned at him.

“Just in case you forgot.” Billy shrugged. “Might want to just get in the Jeep."

Rebecca looked around them quickly. He was right, of course. She unslung her medical pack and dug in it for a second, then pressed a small bottle into Chris's hand. 

"Here — take a couple of these and go lay down. I'll check on you at our next stop," she sighed. He was able to walk around without dizziness or throwing up, so he probably didn't have a concussion. Probably. Still, for somebody who had been hit in the head hard enough to cause memory loss in the past, any head injury should have been watched more closely.

Chris nodded to Leon. 

"I'll be fine. There's another bed in the RV — c'mon, you should sleep while you have the chance, too."

“No offense,” Leon squeezed the large brunette's shoulder, “But I don't think I can sleep with Wesker hovering around with syringes. I'll take my chances in the back seat.”

Of course, rolling around with all of the MREs, ammo boxes, and metal supply crates didn't sound as nice as a real bed.

"He'll be working on helping Piers," Chris promised tiredly. He didn't really have much energy to argue, though. "...Well, we're about to move, so whichever you decide." He turned and started back toward the RV.

Rebecca hopped back into the back seat of the Jeep, frowning after him.

After a second, Leon hurried after Chris. 

“Okay, okay.” He caught up and waved back to Rebecca and Billy. Now they were alone in the Jeep. “Are you sure we shouldn't send someone with them?” He asked Chris, frowning. “I know they can manage, but still – the more eyes, the better.”

"They're used to working together," Chris reminded him. "Just them. It's fine." He took a few steps, then looked back at his friend unhappily. "Are you okay? I know Wesker hit you, but Claire said he beat you up. That's...that sounds a lot worse." 

“Heh.” Leon rubbed his neck and moved up next to him. “You saw my side – that's most of it.” He shrugged a shoulder. 

"That looked bad enough," the brunette muttered. He rubbed at his forehead again. "He's strong enough to stab somebody with his hand — believe it or not, I-I think he was being careful. Sorry I put you in this position, though."

“It's not your fault,” Leon reassured him, smiling weakly. “Like I said before, I had it coming. I forgot who I was talking to – and it worked out in the end. I hate to admit it, but we'd probably be dead right now if it wasn't for him.” 

He gestured to the RV. 

“Um. Now's probably not the best time, but uh – how's it going with the whole relationship thing?” He rambled, looking away. “Yeah... It's alright if you wanna keep it to yourself.”

Chris promptly looked away as well, rather guiltily. 

"I-I don't know. He takes care of me, but he won't touch me." He was surprised he'd admitted to that much, and blushed faintly. Well, it was the truth.

“I don't know, he seems to like to drag you around by the arm a lot. But I'm guessing you mean something a little more...intimate.” The blond blushed in return, eying Claire in the RV. She was playing with a pencil, looked bored. “Do you want him to?” He asked at long last, forcing himself to look back at Chris.

Chris only looked at him sadly and started toward the RV again. How could he say yes? After all that the world had been through at the hands of Wesker, how could he even be thinking about it?

And yet he was.  


* * *

  
The RV door pulled open just as Jake felt sleep closing in behind his eyes. The familiar click of Wesker's boots suddenly made sleeping less appealing. Maybe even impossible.

The footsteps stopped abruptly at the foot of the bed.

Here they went, then. The redhead opened his eyes and looked over at Wesker, staring him right in the eye. He would have put a finger to his lips, but Piers and Sherry were snuggled up on either side of him, and he had an arm around each. 

Wesker observed them calmly. Eerily. Like a cat waiting for a bird to come stupidly closer to its claws.

Since he didn't say anything, Jake didn't say anything either. He did watch the blond in return, though, as if looking away let Wesker win some kind of unspoken competition.

The door on the side of the RV swung open, and somebody climbed inside. Jake didn't glance over to see who, but it sounded like two sets of footsteps. Neither said a word.

“Fascinating.” Slowly, Wesker crossed his arms over his chest and turned away, returning to the small kitchen where he had set up his equipment. “Chris, I need to ask you something.” He said grimly to the two new inhabitants – one of which must be Chris.

"Yeah?" Jake heard the rattle of something in a bottle. Pills? The voice was Chris's, but he spoke as quietly as he could.

“Do you want something warm? The burners are working,” the blond said seriously, gesturing with a hand to the kitchen. “It might help you sleep.” 

“You mean HOT canned food?” Leon’s voice came from the other room now, sounding sarcastic. “Whoa.”

Jake sighed and looked at the ceiling. Well, everybody would figure out Piers was with him soon enough anyway — they may as well not hide it. He didn't really care what Leon thought, anyway, beyond how that came back on Sherry. She loved the guy like he was family. 

"Thanks, but I-I feel a little nauseous," Chris admitted, sounding very tired. There was the little rattle of the pill bottle again. "...These say to take with food, though..."

Wesker stepped 'into' the tiny kitchen, clunking around some cans. 

“We have quite a few choices – beans, fruit, spaghetti – that kind of thing.” He paused and sat another can down. “There is also tuna, salmon, splam and diced ham.”

“I'll take that.” Leon must have claimed one of the mentioned canned foods.

Jake didn't feel so tired just listening to Chris. He glanced down at Sherry, then at Piers, checking that they were still asleep. He'd pulled a blanket over all three of them, and they felt warm enough. Sherry was sleeping soundly – she didn't seem to have trouble falling asleep when he was nearby.

Piers, on the other hand, was frowning in his sleep, his fingers twitching. His forehead was still damp with sweat, and he felt very warm against Jake's arm. His fever was back in full swing.

There was an abrupt silence as Chris leaned and looked over at the three on the bed as well. Jake glanced back at him and frowned. 

Wesker moved back over into the door, leaning on the frame and watching Jake again. Perfectly silently. 

Jake didn't stare him down this time. Instead, he did his best to ignore him, focusing on Piers since the brunette was frowning and breathing unevenly in his sleep. 

He felt far too warm. If there was one thing Jake didn't want to do, it was to have to strap him down again, but his symptoms clearly weren't being held at bay. The redhead spoke softly without so much as looking at Wesker. 

"Think you better check on him."

Wesker was at the bedside in two strides. He bit the tip of his glove and pulled it off, testing Piers' cheek and forehead. Gently, he lifted one of the small brunette's eyelids and frowned. 

“Move Sherry.”

Jake frowned and glanced at Piers briefly, but he eased his arm away from the brunette's shoulders and turned just enough to pull Sherry into his arms. Cradling the little blond against him, he scooted to her side of the bed and stepped off with her. Then he turned back. 

"Is he okay? He's not gonna start bleeding, is he?"

Chris was looking into the room now as well. He said nothing, though, and let Wesker work.

Abandoning his food, Leon came over to Chris's side in the doorway. 

“Is Piers alright?”

“The treatment is not lasting as long as I expected.” Wesker got up and went back over to his lab. He returned shortly with a syringe and the straps. 

Leon cringed and ducked over to the table to rearrange it into the second bed. 

“The Jeep doesn't sound so bad now.”

Jake stepped over and placed Sherry gently on the second bed, then hurried back to Wesker and Piers. He held out a hand for the straps. 

"I'll do that."

Without even looking his direction, Wesker handed them to him. 

“I don't think they're necessary yet.” He rolled up the sleeve of Piers' new gray hoodie, but paused. Lifting the sleeping man's right arm up, he ran a finger along it curiously.

Jake frowned and leaned to see what he was doing. 

"What?"

“I...don't know.” Wesker admitted. He looked at Piers' face and then back to his arm. “Every time the treatment wore off before, his skin changed back – but it hasn't.”

Piers stirred, clenching his teeth in his sleep. Wesker placed his bare hand on the soldier's forehead, trailing it down to his cheek. 

“His fever is high.”

"Every time you give him another shot, some horrible new symptom pops up," Jake added flatly. He looked down at Piers and his expression softened. "You're right — the marks on his face are gone." 

“Shh. Let me think,” Wesker hissed back at him, still holding Piers' arm. He sat quietly and watched his patient sleep for a moment, lost in thought.

Leon spread a blanket on Sherry and returned to Chris's side, patting his friend's shoulder.

Chris glanced at him and then back to Piers. He looked exhausted, but wasn't laying down. 

Jake frowned again and went to secure the straps to the bed frame. Last time Piers was given a shot, he had had a reaction within a couple of minutes — it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. 

He hoped they wouldn't be necessary this time, though.

“Stay with him,” Wesker said finally, sitting Piers' arm back down. “It seems to be fighting the viruses in his system the old fashioned way. Interesting.” He pulled his glove back on and tucked the syringe into the front of his shirt. “I'll see if we have some kind of cold compress.” With that, he stood up and gently pushed past Chris and Leon in the door.

Jake glanced at the two of them and then sat down on the bed beside Piers, feeling the side of his face again. He was burning up — if he was awake he'd probably be disoriented anyway.

Wesker returned with a folded rag and spread it onto Piers' forehead. “Tell me if he seems disturbed – thrashing, gasping, coughing. That sort of thing,” He said flatly, looking from Piers to Jake.

Leon crossed his arms. He felt useless. Taking one last look at them, he went to sit by Sherry. She was still sleeping soundly despite being moved.

"Got it," Jake replied just as flatly, dabbing at Piers' cheek with the corner of the rag. His face and hair and clothes were cleaner than they had been the whole time he'd been with Chris's group. Jake just hoped that he didn't start bleeding again; that had been upsetting, not that he would admit it to anybody. 

Chris had dozed off in his chair, despite his best efforts to stay awake. He was just too tired to keep his eyes open any longer.

Wesker turned to leave, but paused. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and looked back into the room at Jake. 

“He'll be alright,” he said very quietly. Seeming even more uncomfortable, he hurried out into the kitchen.

Tucking a blanket around Chris's shoulders, Leon watched Wesker hurry past curiously. His eyes flicked Jake's direction next. He hadn't caught what the blond had mumbled.

Jake was looking after his father, frowning like he'd just asked a question and given the redhead no chance to answer. He may as well have; Jake hadn't expected any reassurance from the blond, and was surprised he'd received some. 

At least it was actually reassuring, though. If anybody knew whether Piers would be okay, it had to be Wesker — Wesker was the one working on his treatments, after all.

Leon caught the confusion on Jake's face and came over to linger in the door next. 

“Do you need anything? Splam? Noodles?” He offered halfheartedly.

Jake looked up at him dubiously. 

"I'm good...but you could put a blanket on Sherry for me." He glanced over at his girlfriend.

“I already did.” The blond smiled, also glancing back. “I'll keep an eye on her – don't worry.” His eyes paused on Wesker's back. The tall man was working quietly and quickly, careful to keep his focus away from the rest of them. 

Leon couldn't recall ever seeing Wesker nervous or uncomfortable – but there it was.


	25. Should-haves

“Chris.” A hand shook him from his nap and his face bumped right into...a car window. He was in a taxi cab. In the reflection of the window his forehead was leaned on, he could see Joseph and Leon looking at him. His body felt heavy and light all at once. He was tipsy? Drunk? But why didn't he mentally feel it?

“I think he's out,” Leon said dizzily, poking Chris in the arm.

The tanned man behind him laughed. 

“Alright, help me get him inside, then...”

"Mm?" Chris managed, blinking at them. His eyelids felt heavy. Joseph was here, and people were laughing...he was dreaming again, he concluded.

“Hey, you ARE awake.” Leon grinned at him lazily and pointed to the car door. “We're at your house.”

Joseph rolled his eyes and hopped out of the car, circling around it. He opened Chris's door and dragged him out onto his feet. 

“Come on, big guy. I told you those had more than one shot.”

Leon crawled out behind him, leaning on the taxi. 

“Bowser said they did.”

Chris squinted at him, trying to focus. His eyes didn't want to cooperate. Physically this felt like being drunk, but his mind sure didn't feel fuzzy enough to match. 

"Krauser," he mumbled.

“Yep. The big guy with the muscles,” Leon said, trailing after them as the tanned man led Chris carefully to the door. He rang the doorbell. “We're going spearfishing,” he added proudly, leaning a hand over Chris's shoulder.

The door pulled open and Wesker looked out at them, frowning.

“Hey Al!” Leon grinned and waved at him.

Chris meant to glance over, but when he turned his head he felt himself sway on his feet, and leaned on Joseph a little more. 

"That's my husband," he informed the other two. "I love him and you can't have him." It seemed like a drunk thing to state the obvious...and maybe take a bit of the scowl off of Wesker's face.

“Is that a challenge?” Leon continued to grin, elbowing Chris. “No...I'll bet he only likes brunettes,” he whispered loudly to the two outside. 

Shaking his head, Wesker stepped out and took Joseph's place under Chris's arm. 

“Thank you for getting him home.” He nodded to Joseph. “Don't let Leon sleep on the lawn.”

“Yeah,” the tanned man said, looking at Leon with a sad expression. “I have no idea where he lives.”

The blond looked back at him, blinking. 

“It's a house. It's green. And...has a lawn.”

"We've got a house," Chris told Wesker, blinking too. "It's big, I bet Leon would fit on the couch."

Wesker mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'that's where you'll be' but led Chris inside.

Joseph leaned on the door frame and shrugged. 

“I could take him home with me – but I work at six in the morning. I don't know how I feel about leaving him alone in my apartment.”

Leon threw his hands up, sighing heavily. 

“Guys – I have a house!”

Leaving Chris to lean on the couch for a minute, Wesker returned to the door. 

“No, he can stay. Chris'll be home tomorrow.”

The brunette sank into the couch cushions and put his head in his hands. This was almost worse than actually being drunk mentally as well — he had all of the drunken lack of coordination, but none of the blissful ignorance that being drunk brought with it. It just felt like his body didn't want to operate right.

Leon was promptly plunked onto the couch next to him while Wesker saw Joseph out.

The blond man stared over at Chris, serious as he could muster. 

“Well. That went well, huh? We know he knows Ada and she's...around.” He gestured in a big circle. Clearly, he had had a lot more to drink than Chris did. Or maybe he was acting like Chris would be if it wasn't a dream?

Wesker returned to them, laying a blanket over Leon and sitting a glass of water on the coffee table. 

“Make sure you drink all of this before you sleep.”

Leon nodded in reply, already reaching for the glass.

Al bent and offered an arm to Chris. 

“Come on. It's late.” He looked just as tired as before Chris had left. “Do you want the bed or your couch like usual?”

Chris looked up at him for a long moment, not because his mind was actually taking awhile to process, but because he was trying to decide what to do. 

Finally, he put his hand on the blond's and asked, "Where are you gonna be?"

Wesker helped him stand, looping an arm around his waist. 

“I'm going to be in the office for awhile – so how about the couch? Then I can keep an eye on you until you fall asleep.”

They headed off down the hallway, turning into the back room with the bright red couch and desks. And Chris's supposed laptop with the rainbow sticker on it.

Chris let himself be led along, doing his best to be coordinated instead of leaning on Wesker. This Wesker wasn't superhuman or anything, so Chris probably actually felt heavy to him.

"Leon knew that guy from college," he remarked absently, looking at the laptop as they approached it.

Wesker settled him gently onto the couch, scooting the laptop onto the other cushion. He knelt and took off Chris's shoes. 

“Were they dating?” The blond man asked. He went to pull a blanket out of a cabinet and returned with it quickly.

Chris leaned his face sideways on one hand, watching him. 

"Krauser thought so."

His husband tucked the blanket around him and sighed. 

“But since Leon is with you, I'm assuming that they weren't.” He sat down into his computer chair, slumping back. “Did you have fun?”

Chris watched him still, frowning a little bit. He'd honestly missed most of the time on the beach — he'd been awake. Clearly his dream self had been drinking, though, not sleeping.

"I don't really like to drink," he said, yawning. "Or leave you with the kids...you look too tired to work, you should sleep."

His words earned him a firm scowl from the blue eyed man. 

“It's done, Chris – don't worry about it now. This project can't wait. It's very important to Umbrella's future.” He pulled his computer closer, the screen turned at such an angle that Chris couldn't see it, and sighed. “I'll get you some water.” Reluctantly, he got back up and went back into the hallway. Chris could distantly hear Leon snoring already.

Umbrella. Chris frowned after him, then looked back at the laptop. He didn't care if Umbrella WAS a totally different entity in this dream world, it bothered him to be reminded that Wesker was still a part of it. 

Cautiously, he slowly sat up to test whether he could keep his balance. Not very well, it turned out; he wobbled on his way even the short distance to the desk, and wound up leaning on the chair to stay standing up. Ugh — if he hadn't already sworn off alcohol in real life, he'd be doing it over again right now.

He managed to get to the computer to get a look at the screen, feeling dizzy. 

A picture of him and Wesker was on the screen, arm in arm in black tuxes. They were smiling. Whatever he was working on was minimized.

Chris blinked and let his shoulders slump a little, reaching to touch the picture on the screen. It mostly just left a fingerprint there, of course, but he didn't really care. This must be a wedding picture. They both looked young, like they had back in STARS.

Sure enough, matching gold rings were on their fingers. He had never seen Wesker smile like that – it was so...so...happy. Warm and joyful. Was the real Wesker even capable of that kind of smile? They looked like they didn't have a care in the world at the moment the picture was taken.

Chris decided that it must have been before Wesker was working for Umbrella. He slowly made his way back to the red couch and curled up there on his side, pulling the blanket halfway over him in the process. 

His "relationship" with Wesker seemed to have problems no matter where he was. This one was married to him and they still had their troubles. The real Wesker... He knew what he had to do, if he could tell himself that he had a right to.

A hand rested on his shoulder and Wesker leaned down to look at him. 

“Chris? Are you still awake? I brought you some water.”

"Yeah," he answered quietly, moving to sit up. It took some effort; he almost fell over again, and ended up grabbing the back of the couch. Looking at Wesker sadly, he held out his hand for the water. "Thank you..." 

This Wesker didn't look happy like the one in the photo. He wondered if work was the only reason.

Wesker pressed the glass into his hand and kissed his cheek. 

“Try and get some rest.” He moved back over to his chair and stared at the screen tiredly.

"We look really happy," Chris commented, figuring he would see the fingerprints on the screen anyway. He took a long sip of his water, looking at the carpet in front of the couch. 

“We were,” Wesker replied quietly, clicking on his mouse. His blue eyes scanned over the screen. After a moment, he frowned and closed the laptop. “We are.” He looked at Chris, rubbing a hand on his neck. “I think you're right – it's too late to work. It's almost one.” The blond sat up. “Do you think there's room for me over there?”

Chris shifted the water to his other hand and held out his free arm. 

"If there isn't I'll move," he declared.

With a very weak smile, Wesker came back over and sat next to him – pulling the blanket over himself. He sighed and hugged Chris tightly around the waist. 

“I don't like it when you drink. It scares me,” he admitted sadly, leaning his forehead under the muscular man's chin.

"Me too," Chris admitted, sipping the water again. He looked at it and sat it on the edge of the desk, hugging Wesker with both arms. "I'm sorry — I wanted to support Leon, not scare you." 

He wondered why that would scare his husband. Had he had an alcohol problem at some point in this lifetime, too? In this ideal little arrangement, really? He'd only gone down that path in real life thanks to an all-time low point.

Well, and major head trauma.

“Leon...” Wesker mumbled tiredly. “I have this feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of him from now on. Hopefully not always on our couch.” He closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “You smell like bonfire. Did you go somewhere after the bar?”

"Mm...?" Chris glanced over at him, realizing that nobody had told Wesker they hadn't even gone to a bar in the first place. "Went to the beach instead. They were having a party," he explained, resting a hand on the blond's hair. "...Did you call Claire?"

He'd just realized that his sister wasn't there when he'd arrived.

“She was busy – so the kids and I watched a movie instead. Two actually.” The blond man was talking softly now, drifting off. “I slept through the last one.”

"Al..." Chris sighed. It was 1 am, and he hadn't slept this whole day, the night before...OR the day before that? Just dozed during a movie? He got his hand to cooperate and pet the blond's hair a little. 

He was working so hard, and Chris was off at some party. Even though it had been a show of support for Leon, he felt bad. Even though this wasn't real, and he'd be waking up soon enough anyway. The real Wesker was doing the exact same thing — looking after him and working nonstop. He'd have to try and make him rest awhile, too.  


* * *

  
When he drifted back to consciousness, Chris wasn't sure whether to expect the dream world or reality. At this point it could be either. The sound of the engine revving from the front of the RV was a pretty good indication, though.

Blinking, the brunette found that he was still sitting up at the dinette set table, a blanket draped around his shoulders and...a can of diced ham in his hand? He must have fallen asleep holding it. 

Piers! He'd been watching Piers when he'd drifted off. He glanced over quickly at the bed, only to find Jake sitting on the edge and the smaller brunette laying there under a blanket. Piers seemed okay...he wasn't strapped down, at least.

"Wesker?" Chris asked, looking around for him. Much to his relief, he didn't sway or tip over when he moved his head...although his neck felt stiff, his head hurt, his chest hurt, and his back stung. But at least he wasn't drunk.

“Hm?” The blond dropped what he was working on – his tablet – and came over to his side. “I have more painkillers.” He immediately did an about-face and snagged a bottle off of the kitchen counter.

He seemed so...almost flustered...that Chris actually smiled at him. 

"I'm okay," he said, holding up a hand. Realizing it was the one still holding the can of ham, he sheepishly turned and put it on the table. "How is Piers?"

Chris also noticed Leon and Sherry. The blond woman was curled up on the bed in the dinette and Leon was wrapped in a blanket on the floor in front of it, also asleep.

Wesker paused in front of him with the pills and glanced off toward the bedroom. 

“Better. His fever came back, but the treatment is working. Once he's through this, he'll be fine.” 

Chris looked from Leon and Sherry to Wesker, nodding. 

"How about you?"

Wesker cocked his head and frowned. 

“Me?” He spoke so quietly that it was almost inaudible. Deciding not to reply, he took two pills out of the bottle, grabbed a water glass and returned to Chris's side to offer them to him.

Chris accepted the two, frowning a bit at the water glass. It was exactly like the one in the dream. 

"You," he repeated. "How long has it been since you slept, Wesker?"

“Not important,” the blond said nonchalantly, returning to his kitchen workstation. He kept his back to Chris, moving several small vials around among the equipment on the counter top. “We've made good progress – despite the road condition. We should keep moving until we get low on supplies.”

Chris looked at the pills he'd been handed and sighed, putting them in his mouth. He took a few swigs of the water, then stood and left it behind on the table, heading over to Wesker's little makeshift lab. 

"...Everybody else's asleep," he said quietly, looking over the things on the table. "I know you're tired."

The blond slowly turned around to face him, still frowning. 

“I don't sleep. I can't. Something might happen.” He stepped past Chris, picking up the blanket and replacing it on the brunette's shoulders. 

"You'll hear it," Chris told him evenly. Looking up at the blond, he frowned a little. "...What can I do for you? You're doing so much for me." He wondered if that was purely out of guilt for past events. His hands weren't the cleanest, either, but the world was already ruined and here they were alive, so they could be miserable or they could deal with it.

“Nothing,” Wesker said, frown saddening. “I take care of you because...you don't.” His eyes drifted to the floor and then to their sleeping companions. “You don't owe me anything, Chris.”

The brunette took a step toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"Not because I owe you," he said quietly. "Because I want to. I need to do something."

Wesker looked at his hand, thinking over his words. 

“Just get better. I can take care of myself.” Despite what he said, the blond man placed a hand over Chris's. It was ice cold.

Chris took his hand and kissed it. 

"I know you can." He sighed and turned, starting back toward the table. Sitting there was apparently all he could do at the moment. Maybe take over driving at the next stop and give Claire a break. The real Wesker probably wasn’t used to any sort of kiss from him, but it had felt so easy to do.

He heard Wesker follow him for a few steps and stop. The blond man returned to his lab, but didn't start working again. He sat with his shoulders slumped, hands resting on the counter top silently.

Chris returned to his seat and slumped there as well, looking at the half glass of water. There was a long, heavy silence. He wondered how long he'd been asleep.

Wesker turned around to face him, crossing his arms tightly. He drummed his fingers lightly on his arm – mouth in a thin line. 

“Jake and Piers are together,” he said at last. From his tone, it almost sounded like he didn't really care, but he seemed tense anyway.

Chris glanced back at him, blinking. 

"I know," he admitted. "Sherry asked me for advice on how to approach Jake about the idea." He looked at the blond girl sleeping on the nearer bed.

“Piers approached me when we arrived at the mall,” Wesker said, pacing in front of the counter. “He told me that he had feelings for Jake – and that I might know something about hiding them.” He stopped, lowering his voice. “I told him to live with it – that's what I did.”

"Guess it goes to show that you never know if you never ask," Chris said, turning on the seat to face him. He looked a little sad now; he could feel his brows pinching. "Like I'm one to talk. I didn't say anything until it was too late."

“There was too much at stake to tell you. I was already involved in Umbrella, already wrapped up in Spencer's project. If he found out that I had a weakness, he would have used it. Destroyed it. Destroyed you – to make me stronger. I couldn't live with that,” Wesker admitted hollowly, coming closer. “You were too important to me.”

Chris looked up at him and swallowed hard. 

"So it wasn't one-sided, even back then." He looked down and shook his head. It felt surreal to talk about this after so long. "You had me from day one, you know."

“I was a fool. I chose Umbrella instead.” Wesker paced again, chin down. “I wonder how different the world would be if I had chosen you.”

Chris frowned, watching him pace. 

"Chosen to get me killed, you mean? You just said you couldn't get out by then." 

Spencer, and Umbrella... He and Jill had learned about the Wesker children from documents in Spencer's mansion. Wesker never really chose to be a part of that, did he? There was no 'by then' — he couldn't get out at all. Chris was trying to imagine things from Wesker's perspective, but it was difficult to imagine, even.

“I would have done anything for you.” Wesker stopped pacing and came over to Chris, lowering his voice. “But yes, it may have cost both of our lives.” He crouched in front of Chris, taking his hands. “I should have tried.”

Chris looked down at their hands. 

"Me, too. I've got a list of should-haves a mile long," he said softly. "You were the first captain I ever respected, though, and I didn't want to mess it up." He smiled half-heartedly. The Air Force. STARS. They felt so small now. 

His old nemesis looked up at him, red eyes darting back and forth behind the lenses of his sunglasses. 

“It all seems like another lifetime. Different worlds. First STARS, then Umbrella.” He squeezed Chris's hands tightly. “I can't undo all of that now – I just want to make sure that you're still here. Alive and safe.” He continued to stare up at him, thinking over his words. “You're my world now.”

That was quite a declaration. Chris stared at him for a moment, unsure what to say. It was hard to tell what Wesker was thinking when he said things like that; he was still hiding behind his shades.

The blond man's grip on Chris's hands loosened. He seemed to be at a loss for words as well. His gaze dropped to their hands and his shoulders stiffened. “I–”

“I swear to god – if you two start making out,” Leon ran a hand tiredly over his face, squinting over at them. “I'm gonna barf.”

Immediately, Wesker let go of Chris and stood up – quickly returning to the kitchen. He nervously rearranged a few vials and kept his back to them, poking at his tablet with sudden interest.

Leon watched him go, frowning. “Sorry. Didn't mean to ruin the moment.”

Chris avoided his eyes and mumbled something about a drink, heading to the cabinets to poke through them. Not that that was very far away — about two feet to the left. He should've said something to Wesker. There was another thing on the should-have list. 

Sensing that he had indeed ruined their conversation, Leon got up and stretched. Sherry stirred, but stayed asleep. The ex-agent ran a hand through his hair and – with one final apologetic look at Chris – went up to the front of the RV to check on Claire.

The scientist across the room continued his work in silence.

Chris shut the cabinet and leaned back against it, wrapping his arms around himself. 

'You're my world now.' Wesker had sounded so serious. And he'd talked about keeping Chris alive, and safe, but not happy. Did he realize that he was what could make Chris happy?  


* * *

  
"Pull over," Rebecca ordered, leaning out window of the Jeep and shading her eyes against the light rain still coming down. "I think there's a gas station up there." 

And another car blocking the road back here...the third they'd seen so far. If the RV was going to make it through, they would have to move it like the others.

Billy slowed he jeep to a stop and sighed. 

“Does this feel intentional to you?” He glanced around outside briefly to check for zombies and then hopped down to the ground.

"They've all been parked the same way," Rebecca agreed uneasily. Nobody had crashed the cars into ditches — each was skidded at an angle, taking up most of the road. The brunette glanced around them quickly like an ambush might be in order.

"Billy...I should probably tell you something," she said more quietly, climbing out of the Jeep as well.

“Hm?” The tall brunette came around the jeep to her side. He also looked around suspiciously. It was comforting to see his magnum tucked into the top of his jeans. At least it was still light out.

Stepping a little closer to him, Rebecca glanced back the way they had come. Empty road with the occasional straggling zombie that had wandered after the Jeep. 

"I may have made some people angry," she confessed. "Some dangerous people."

The tattooed man patted her shoulder gently. 

“Do you think they know where you are?” He asked in concern.

Rebecca looked up at him and mustered a small smile. She and Billy often traveled separately, but they always found each other again. She could always count on him.

"I was pretty sure they weren't following, but there are a lot of them...and I took some of their supplies," she said quietly. "It's the whole reason I sneaked in there, actually. A hospital, pretty far away from here."

“What kind of supplies?” He started slowly ahead towards the car. “I take it it wasn't just aspirin and gauze.”

Rebecca sighed and trailed after him just as slowly. 

"Chemistry supplies. I've been working on some mixtures — something that might be able to keep the zombies away."

“Zombie repellent?” Billy actually sounded excited as he turned to smile at her. “That's really awesome. Why would anyone think that's a bad thing?” He paused next to the car, leaning an arm on it. 

"They were using their chemistry equipment to make drugs," Rebecca clarified uneasily. "I could use this stuff for much better things than that...so I waited until they were distracted, and I took it."

Billy cringed. 

“You robbed drug lords? The rulers of the new world?” He groaned. “Rebecca, that was a bad idea. Those guys usually don't forgive easily.” Tapping the top of the car, he sighed.

"I-I wouldn't say 'lords'," the petite brunette protested nervously. "They were more like...thugs. Underlings. God, I just hope they don't show up and attack Chris's group looking for me..." 

“I'm pretty sure Chris'll be okay,” Billy said, shaking his head. “I'm more worried about you. Did they know you were heading this way?” He pushed off of the car and crossed his arms, scowling. “We should tell the others – at least Chris.”

"I went through some pretty infested areas on purpose on my way back," Rebecca sighed, looking at the sign ahead of them. "...The roadblock thing just reminded me, and I thought maybe there's more people like that up ahead. You know?"

Billy looked at the car for a long moment, still frowning. 

“Alright. We should get out of the city. Traveling through areas like this is just asking for trouble.”

"So much for our plans to loot as we go," Rebecca mumbled. She frowned. "I'm sorry, but we can't be too careful. We're traveling with a pregnant woman, here, and most of us are exhausted, too. Chris doesn't look good." 

Billy turned and pointed off behind them. “There was a turn off back there – 40th or something. That should lead to the city limits. I came in that way. If we can reach the highway, we might have an easier time than navigating all of this mess.” The muscular man put a hand on her back. “Come on. We really need to tell Chris.”

"Okay." Rebecca put a hand over her head and started for the Jeep again. The rain was beginning to pelt down harder, and it was dim out even though it was daytime still.  


* * *

  
“Jake.” 

His name cut through his hazy sleep. He and some faceless corpse had been fighting in his dream. It was wearing Piers' scarf. The image of them faded quickly as Piers called to him.

“Jake, please wake up,” the small brunette begged, very close by. His voice wasn't very loud.

"Piers...?" Jake squinted at him, trying to get the image from the dream out of his head. Piers wasn't a zombie, he was just sick — and Wesker was going to fix that. He hoped.

“Jake,” Piers said in relief. “Why am I strapped down? Where's Sherry? Is she alright – I d-didn't hurt her, did I?” He had been strapped down. Not by Jake – Wesker had said that it wasn't necessary. 

Jake sat up quickly, turning to check him for any wounds, any signs of blood or a struggle. He looked okay...but how the hell had Jake slept through somebody tying him up? He'd been laying right here beside Piers.

“I did, didn't I?” The small brunette's eyes looked terrified. He struggled to sit up, looking off into the living room area. “Sherry?!”

There was startled 'hm' from the other room as the blond woman fought her way out of the blankets and stumbled their way. 

“Piers? Are you okay?” She hurried past Chris into the bedroom and perched at the end of the bed, eyes wide with worry.

Piers flopped his head back on the bed in relief. 

“Oh thank god.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

Jake placed a hand on his forehead, testing for any fever and feeling guilty that he hadn't said anything in reply. 

"You're both okay." He frowned and examined one of the straps to make sure that it wasn't too tight, then glanced back at Sherry. "...I didn't do this."

“Jeez. You scared me half to death,” Sherry mumbled, crawling up beside Piers sleepily. She patted his chest. “I don't know who did it.” The blond frowned at the straps. “I mean, I would guess that-”

“I did,” Wesker interrupted, leaning on the door frame. “You had fallen asleep.”

Jake turned and fixed a flat stare in his direction not unlike the one Wesker had been giving the three of them earlier. 

"So wake me up."

“You can take them off when you're awake,” the blond man said coldly, ducking back out of the room.

With a firm frown, Sherry hopped up and went after him.

Jake opened his mouth to call after her, then shut it again, shaking his head. No, she had that look. Wesker was going to get an earful, most likely. Scowling, he turned and unstrapped both of Piers wrists, checking each for any marks. 

"He said we didn't need these, damn it..."

“I'd much rather be strapped down than sneak off and bite someone,” Piers said sadly, sitting up and looking worriedly after Sherry. “Shouldn't you stop her? I mean...that's Wesker.”

"..." Jake dashed around the corner almost before Piers could see that he had even stepped off the bed. He was a little hopeful that the scene he walked in on would be his father being scolded by a tiny blond. 

It was. Almost to the point of being comical. Sherry was standing chest to chest with Wesker, pointing straight up at his nose and speaking through a snarl.

“...Part of the group! It's not YOUR call where we go, or what we eat – or if we strap Piers down! We make the decisions as a group.” 

Wesker didn't reply. He just stood there listening to her rant, mouth a straight line.

She poked his chest. “So don't TOUCH him again!” She crossed her arms angrily. “Unless it's to cure him.”

“Sherry. The only reason I strapped him down in the first place was because of your child-” The tall man attempted to explain calmly.

“Don't!” The blond girl turned back to him and glared. “Don't talk about our baby – it has nothing to do with you.”

For once, Jake was surprised that he'd been dead right. And if he'd had any doubts about Sherry caring about Piers, this certainly laid those to rest. The redhead stepped over to his girlfriend and put a hand on her shoulder lightly, glancing at Wesker. No comment, just the look. 

"He's helping Piers, not keeping him prisoner." Chris spoke up from where he'd been sitting at the dinette table the whole time, watching first the alarm in the bedroom and then the outburst in the kitchen-lab area not five feet away. 

He sighed and got to his feet, coming over to stand near Sherry as well. "It's hard to remember when he looks better, but Piers is still very sick, Sherry."

“He's doing better. I wasn't even in there!” Sherry waved a hand toward the bedroom. “Jake would have noticed if he got up and left.”

“Jake didn't notice me,” Wesker stated. “Last time, Piers went for anyone who moved. Very quickly. What if that had been Chris? You? Leon or Claire?” He raised an eyebrow. “Piers IS getting better – but we can't be reckless about it.”

Sherry just growled, stepping back closer to Jake.

The redhead promptly put an arm around her, still scowling. 

"All it would take is one mistake — one little scratch, and someone could die," Chris told the pair grimly. His expression saddened as he glanced back toward the bedroom. "You know that I care about Piers. I wouldn't ask him to be strapped down unless it was a necessary precaution."

"YOU actually asked," Jake said flatly. Glaring at Wesker, he added, "If we have to do this, I'll do it. Don't tell me you didn't have to sneak to keep from waking me up."

Wesker stared him down, tapping his fingers on his arm. 

“Fine. But you'll strap him down when I tell you to.” He stepped closer to the young couple, uncrossing his arms. “And when you sleep, he gets strapped down.” He turned and went back to his lab. “Now that you're awake, I need another sample.” 

Sherry shook her head and went back to the bedroom.

Jake stepped over and rolled up his sleeve without any protest, though he looked like he'd rather be following Sherry and checking on Piers. He held his arm in Wesker's general direction and stuck his other hand in his pocket, teeth gritted. How quiet did Wesker have to be to actually pull that off without waking him? Now it didn't feel safe for Piers or Sherry if he went to sleep.

Chris sighed and stepped back over to the dinette, leaning to check on the two in the bedroom. Was Piers upset about this, or just the others?

Sherry was sitting on the bed beside the small man, explaining something with lots of hands gestures. Piers looked surprised more than anything else.

Wesker took Jake's arm and pulled him closer to the lab. 

“We need to talk.” He took the blood sample carefully, returning the syringe to the lab stand. “Outside.”

Jake shoved his sleeve back down without bothering to put a bandaid on the poke mark, scowling. 

"Something you don't want Redfield to hear, I bet," he commented under his breath, heading promptly out the door.

Chris sighed and sat down at the dinette table again. It seemed best to let everybody settle down a little.

Wesker followed Jake and carefully – and quietly – shut the door behind them. 

“The treatment is not working."

Jake crossed his arms and stared at him evenly. 

"Really."

“It's keeping him from changing back further, but that's all. I have to go to a full lab.” The blond man paced back and forth in front of the door.

Jake turned his head to follow the pacing, but otherwise didn't move. He did frown more, though. 

"Yeah, but you said it would keep him steady until then. What's the problem?"

“He's still infectious and unstable. Having him around Chris is dangerous – I won't take that risk. I've been making several doses for Piers. You can give them to him every twenty-two hours.” 

Jake tilted his head. He didn't like the sound of this. 

"You're leaving," he concluded.

Wesker paused and turned to Jake slowly. 

“Not for long. I should make it back in a day or so. But...” He clenched his hands into fists. “I need you to guard Chris.”

"If you're gone, I'm pretty much guardin' everybody," the redhead said drolly, glancing back at the RV door. Sherry was damn tough, but he wouldn't let anything near her with the baby on the way. 

“I'm not asking you to guard everyone,” the blond muttered, pacing again. “Don't let him out of your sight.” He stopped. “If he gets hurt, you can forget about the cure.” Abruptly, he hopped back into the RV.

Jake growled and stormed after his father, resisting the urge to punch the metal side of the RV in frustration — but just barely. He didn't even have a comment for how low it was to threaten Piers with suffering right back down through the stages of the virus for ANY reason. 

He headed right past Wesker and into the bedroom. At the moment, he was more concerned with Sherry and the baby being under so much stress, and with Piers not feeling safe even with him right there.

Sherry and Piers were sitting side by side on the bed, both staring at the ceiling and talking quietly. It was a lot like the first time he had seen them together when he had brought the sniper back to the underwater base.

“...Pretty scary for a little kid,” Piers said, cringing.

Sherry patted his arm sympathetically.

"Hey," Jake greeted them quietly, stepping over and taking a seat on the side of the bed. He turned to look at the two of them, particularly Piers, with a troubled expression. "You okay?"

The brunette sat up and leaned on his knees. 

“I'm fine. Sorry I freaked out – I was just worried about her.” He looked sadly at Sherry, who sat up too.

“Aw. Thanks,” she said cutely, kissing his cheek. Piers blushed and hugged his knees. 

Jake climbed onto the bed and scooted over to be close to both of them, sitting beside Piers and hugging around the brunette's shoulders. 

"I just won't sleep while Wesker's around from now on," he said flatly.

“Jake,” Piers turned and hugged him loosely. “I'm glad he did it. I don't want to hurt any of you,” he said softly, leaning his head against the redhead's shoulder.

Sherry hugged Jake from the other side, sighing. 

“Yeah, but he didn't have to be such a jerk about it.”

Jake sighed, slipping an arm around the blond's shoulders and hugging her as well.

"Think he got the picture that I do it from now on if anybody has to." He was quiet for a moment, and then smirked slightly. "...Sherry really chewed him out." He was sure that Piers had been able to hear the entire conversation; the bedroom was just around the corner from the kitchen.

“Somebody had to,” she muttered. 

“Thanks,” Piers said quietly. “Thanks for taking care of me. I'm hoping I feel better soon so I can help out around here a little more.” He still felt very warm – even his breath. 

Jake turned his head to glance at the brunette and see if his face was flushed. 

"Hey, if we need anybody sniped, we know you can do that, even with a fever," he pointed out. Poor Piers...if what Wesker was saying was true, the sniper wouldn't be any better for awhile.

Piers' cheeks were still rosy and he was looking a little sleepy again.

“How about just one strap? Then I can still move around, but everyone can get away if they need to?” He asked, propping his head up to stare at Jake with pale gray eyes.

"One wrist," Jake agreed, looking into his eyes. He looked tired, a little hopeful, a little anxious. Still cute. "It's gonna get better," he promised, and kissed the brunette's forehead. He just didn't have the heart to tell Piers that he wasn't getting better, at least not right now. 

Sherry leaned her head on him too, patting Piers' arm. The peaceful times weren't going to last. She figured they might as well enjoy them while they did. 

The small brunette smiled. 

“It's weird, but I actually trust Wesker to do it. I have no idea why he wants to cure me – but I know he will.” No idea wasn't exactly true. It certainly had something to do with Chris – as always.

Jake turned and kissed the top of Sherry's head as well, blushing faintly. He'd forgotten for a moment that he was kissing Piers in front of her. As much as she'd assured him that she didn't mind, he'd never really done anything more than hold Piers' hand in front of her.

This arrangement was really weird. Not bad, but they would definitely have to play it by ear.

"Think you're right," he told Piers. "He'll do it. With my blood he can do it." 

And a proper lab...apparently.


	26. Leaving

"Wesker." Chris spoke quietly, stepping over near the blond's makeshift lab. "What's going on?"

He and Jake had stepped back inside the RV at almost the same time, neither looking any happier than they had before. Judging by the quiet voices from the bedroom, Jake was talking with Piers and Sherry. Wesker...appeared to be arranging syringes and little vials on the counter top.

Wesker turned to him when he spoke, eyebrows low. 

“I have to leave.”

"What? No..." Chris stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder. "Piers will die without you. Please..."

He wished he'd managed to reply when Wesker had spoken so honestly with him before. Saying nothing must have seemed like rejection — and then Jake and Sherry had made it clear how fond they were of Wesker, which wasn't much. 

Staring at Chris's hand, the blond shook his head. 

“No, not for good – I just need more supplies. The treatment has come to a standstill. I need an actual lab to make any more progress. If I don't, he will be like this until we reach the mountain facility.” He took Chris's hand off of his shoulder and lowered it back to his side. “I promised you that I would cure him, and I will,” the tall man said dutifully.

Chris wanted to look him in the eye, but those damned shades were in the way, as always. He looked down at the vials on the table instead, not sure how to convey how relieved he was. The tiny nod he gave probably didn't do much to explain.

"I thought we were heading toward a lab."

“It could easily take a month to get there,” Wesker replied more softly. There was a long pause as something went through his mind instead of out loud. He frowned. “But if you want me to stay, I will.”

"How long would you be gone?" Chris asked, keeping his voice low as well. His head was starting to ache again; the painkillers seemed to have worn off. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he added heavily, "I want you here...but I've got to think of Piers first. He's only sick because of me." 

“Technically, because of me. The virus... No, it's not important,” Wesker said. He reached a hand out cautiously and patted the brunette's arm. It was a very delicate motion – like Chris might smack his hand away. “I shouldn't be gone for more than a few days.” He nodded back to his counter top lab. “I made several doses ahead of time, but if I'm still not back in three days, strap him down.”

Days. Chris was surprised how much his heart sank at that word. Wesker kept promising that he would cure Piers, but Chris honestly didn't want him out of his sight. 

After that last dream, he had been reminded how much Wesker was working on his own — not sleeping, not resting — while he took care of Chris the whole time. What if he pushed himself too hard? Could Wesker even get exhausted? His eyes were probably tired behind the lenses...

The brunette looked up at him with an expression somewhere between sadness and frustration. 

"Wish I could help with any of this. I'm dead weight."

“Everyone here trusts you. They need you here.” Seeing as how Chris hadn't shoved his hand away, Wesker dared to move it up to the large man's chin, running his thumb along Chris's jaw. “I'll be back as soon as I can be.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Piers doesn't deserve to suffer. I can't just leave him like this.” 

The hand on his face was still as cold as ever, but surprisingly gentle. Chris closed his eyes and turned his face to lean into the touch a little, wishing they could have just a few moments where nobody else's life was on the line. 

But Wesker was right about Piers, so he only murmured, "We'll wait for you here."

Wesker stepped closer and tipped Chris's face up for a kiss. His lips were as cold as his hands had been. He broke away immediately, turning back to his lab. 

“Please take care of yourself.” The scientist snagged his blazer off of the end of the counter and put it on.

Chris stepped back and watched this quietly, feeling a bit dazed. The kiss was not something he'd expected. Thanks to the dreams, he caught himself missing a closeness that had never happened in real life. Fantasies, indeed.

"You, too," he told Wesker, finally replying to his comment. He would only be gone for a few days, so why did it feel like goodbye?  


* * *

  
The rain had begun to come down in sheets again by the time Billy and Rebecca made it back to the RV. The sound of the water hitting the metal top of the vehicle was almost musical — a stark contrast to the Jeep's canvas top. 

From what they could tell, they had not been followed.

“I needed a good shower,” Billy mumbled as he slip out of the jeep to the ground with a splash. He hurried around the car to hold the side of his jacket over Rebecca's head. 

The petite woman climbed out of the Jeep and to the ground, pressing close to his side underneath the jacket. It was really good to be with Billy again. They had been traveling apart for weeks. She looked up at him and offered a grateful little smile. 

"Thank you."

“No problem, squirt.” He smirked back at her. “So what's the plan? Tell just the basics or explain the whole thing?” Billy shrugged a shoulder. “Do you trust Chris?”

"I do trust him, but I'm not so sure about Captain Wesker," Rebecca admitted, looking over at the RV. She sighed. It seemed almost petty to hold grudges about things that had happened so long ago, especially since somebody as smart as Wesker would have shot her in the head if he'd actually intended to kill her. He'd shot the bulletproof vest on purpose. And he actually seemed concerned for Sherry and her baby.

Speak of the devil. As they approached the RV, Wesker went quietly down the steps. He paused at the bottom to look up at the couple with glowing red eyes.

Rebecca felt Billy's back stiffen at the sight of the blond.

Rebecca drew a deep breath and stood up a little straighter, peering at the blond from under Billy's coat. 

"You might want to stick around, we've got to talk about something that affects the whole group," she said as diplomatically as possible.

Recalling Sherry's rant on being part of the group earlier, Wesker came over to them – already soaked from the rain. 

“Such as?”

“Seriously?” Billy asked, frowning. “Let's just go inside.” He waved to the RV with his free arm.

Rebecca bobbed her head. 

"We should — I need to tell Chris, too."

Wesker glanced back at the RV. 

“Fine.” He went back to the door, holding it open for them. 

Billy stared at him like he was insane – not far from the truth – and headed inside.

Rebecca stepped out from under his jacket as they climbed through the door. The RV was pretty crowded with her, Billy and Wesker in the small kitchen-dinette area. Chris was sitting at the dinette table, and glanced up as they came inside.

"Rebecca," he said, surprised. He said her name, but he was directing the surprised look at Wesker, for some reason. Whatever it was, he shook it off quick, returning his attention to the petite brunette and her boyfriend. "You two are back fast. Is the road pretty clear?"

“We've got a problem,” Billy said, not offering any clue as to what it was. He looked back at Wesker, who lingered by the door.

Having heard the RV door open and close several times in the last few minutes, both Leon and Claire came back from the front. 

“Hey, everything okay back here?” Claire asked, looking at the three dripping people. 

Chris glanced at them as well, frowning slightly. The RV really wasn't big enough for all of them to be in it without tripping over each other. 

Seeing that look, Rebecca jumped in with an explanation. 

"I-I think there are some people after me. I took some stuff from their camp, and they'll...definitely notice it's gone."

Chris stood, looking at the door. 

"Following you back from the town?"

Rebecca slowly shook her head.

Wesker crossed his arms as Chris stood. He looked like he wanted to just charge back out into the rain. 

“There are cars carefully set up as road blocks. The one we just found was the third – someone's still around here. It might be them,” the tattooed man explained.

Rebecca glanced up at him and nodded. 

To Chris, she continued, "We didn't realize they were parked on purpose until the second and third started looking the same, either. So we moved them, and somebody's bound to notice."

“I think we should head out of the city and follow the highway. There are less zombies out there and hopefully less people,” Billy added.

Leon raised an eyebrow. 

“And less supplies.”

"We should avoid running into other people if we can," Chris agreed, looking troubled by the news. He again glanced at Wesker, and his brows furrowed. "If the blocks from there to here are moved, they'll check it out. We'll have to move the RV."

"We've still got some supplies from the mall," Rebecca told Leon. It wasn't perfect, but better safe than sorry...especially where drug lords were concerned.

Billy stepped forward. 

“There's a road a few blocks ahead of here – it leads out of the city. We can go ahead in the jeep and clear it, but I think the RV should be close by. If there really are other people around, we need to stick together.”

Chris nodded at him. 

"I think so, too." He eyed Wesker again and finally said, "Wesker, we might not be where you left us when you get back." He said it solemnly — as solemnly as possible, like he was trying not to show whether that bothered him or not.

“If you're along the highway, I'll find you,” the blond said, standing up from the wall and heading for the door. 

“Whoa, whoa – you're leaving?” Leon asked in surprise, looking from Wesker to Chris. “Why is he leaving?”

Chris looked at him and sighed, holding up a hand. 

"Lab supplies. Don't worry about that, he'll be back soon." 

"Lab — like, lab equipment?" Rebecca looked after Wesker as he slipped out the door, then hurried after him. "Captain Wesker...!"

Chris sighed. Wesker was probably already a hundred feet away, with how he ran.

Billy went after her.

Outside, Wesker stopped at the sound of her voice and turned back toward the RV. The sun was starting to sink in the sky and with the rain clouds over their heads — it seemed much later than it was.

Rebecca hopped down from the RV's steps with a splash in the mud puddles, hurrying after the blond man. "Captain Wesker, wait! What kind of lab equipment do you need?" She stopped when she saw that he had stopped, straightening up. "I have some, from a hospital."

“An incubator, mostly – and I don't think you could even lift that,” the slim blond said matter of factly. 

Billy hopped out of the RV too, the door slamming shut behind him. He fixed Wesker with a glare while they talked.

Rebecca crossed her arms. 

"As a matter of fact, I CAN lift one — it’s a mini model. It wouldn't fit in my pack, though, so I had to stash it on the way here. I've got a lot of useful reagents, too," she added.

The idea of not leaving Chris under Jake's care seemed far too tempting, and Wesker came closer to her. 

“Where did you stash it?” He asked in a surprisingly casual tone.

Billy moved behind Rebecca and placed his hands on her shoulders protectively.

She glanced up at him, then back to Wesker. 

"You remember that old Umbrella base you first met me near? I buried it around behind the back; covered up the spot with a broken-off car door. Um, it's red." She sighed. "I'm a chemist, maybe I could help with what you're doing."

Wesker considered her for a long moment, looking down his nose at them. He turned and paced – slowly – back and forth.

Billy's frown deepened as he watched this, clearly annoyed by the blond's elitist attitude toward them. He patted Rebecca's shoulder after Wesker still hadn't replied after his pacing.

Wesker suddenly turned to them and nodded. 

“I suppose...assistance could be beneficial. I'll have to circle back to the old facility, then.” He gestured loosely to the RV. “Would you let Chris know?”

The RV was right there. He could easily go do it himself. There had been some awkwardness before...maybe he and Chris got into an argument?

"Um, sure!" Rebecca smiled at him. For some reason, that little bit of awkwardness was endearing. So even Wesker could get embarrassed. "Oh, you should take a radio with you! The RV and the Jeep are going to stay close together for now, and then we can tell you where we move to..."

With an indignant grumble, Billy offered Wesker their radio. The blond took it, nodding in thanks.

“I'll be back as soon as possible,” he assured them, tucking the radio into the inside pocket of his jacket safely out of the rain. With one last glance at the RV door, he turned and disappeared into the ruins of the city – hopping lightly like a cat over the broken buildings.

Rebecca looked after him and sighed. 

"...I guess at least the stuff we're being chased for is going to be used for a good cause."

“The cure to the virus,” Billy said as he watched Wesker go. “It's still a little creepy this guy wants to help at all. Isn't he the one who started all of this?”

"He was definitely involved," Rebecca mumbled, frowning. "...I don't know if he cares about curing the virus, I think he just wants Chris to like him. That hasn't really changed, I guess."

“Is he really that crazy about Chris?” Billy jerked a thumb back at the RV – suddenly aware of how soaking wet they were since they had been standing in the rain the whole time. “Freaky.” The tattooed man pulled up his jacket's side again and held it over his petite girlfriend's head.

She giggled. 

"I think it's a little late for that!" Still, she pressed close to his side. "Come on, we should let Chris know where Wesker went. We just sort of ran out here."

He smiled back and led them back to the door.  


* * *

  
In spite of all of the things Jake and Wesker disagreed on, the redhead did think that it was safer to strap Piers down if they all went to sleep. That was why, when Piers and Sherry began to doze off leaned against him, Jake stubbornly stayed awake. It didn't seem right to tie Piers up right now — not after he'd awakened that way and freaked out about it. 

The conversation had died down in the other half of the RV; it had been nothing but quiet murmuring for awhile now. Wesker had left awhile ago. Leon had said something about the fuel gauge, and the RV had stopped moving. Jake was sure he heard Chris talking a few times, too. 

Chris...he still couldn't believe Wesker was threatening Piers to force him to look after Chris. Piers hadn't done anything wrong, and yet it seemed like everything bad happened to him lately.

Piers sat up a bit, blinking at him with heavily lidded eyes. Jake promptly turned his attention to the sniper. 

"Hey."

Piers hugged back against him, sighing. 

“We’re not moving.”

“Yeah. I think we’re refueling, I heard them talking about the fuel gauge bein’ busted. Wesker left, too," Jake replied quietly, resting his head against the brunette's. "Said he'd be gone a couple days. He made treatments ahead of time for you."

Piers frowned and sat back up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. 

“And we'll keep moving? How will he find us?” 

“Hm?” Sherry forced her eyes open, sitting up as well to stare at them. “What?”

Jake glanced at her and then back to Piers, sighing and sitting up straight. 

"Wesker's on a supply run. He'll find us again — he always knows where Redfield is." 

“Wow,” Sherry mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “You mean he's letting Chris out of his sight? I didn't think he'd do that after the whole Licker thing.”

“Me neither,” Piers replied softly, looking at her. 

The little blond slipped out of Jake's arm and smiled at them. 

“I think I'm going to go check on Claire. I can't just nap the trip away.” Sherry patted Piers' back, still a little woozy from sleeping. “But you can.”

Piers sighed, his shoulders slumping. 

“I don't really want to.”

"You don't have to stay tied down while we're awake," Jake told him, patting his back as well. "Maybe get up and stretch your legs a bit, huh?"

Big gray eyes stared up at him like it was the first time he had ever heard the idea. 

“Walk around?” Piers frowned and glanced off out of the bedroom door. “...Won't I scare people?”

Caught in the middle of another yawn, Sherry shook her head. 

“No. We know a shambling corpse when we see one.” She turned back to them and held up her hands. “Not that you are one.”

“I feel like one,” the brunette grumbled, hugging Jake again.

Sherry perched on the end of the bed. 

“Aww, come on. You're not even half dead.”

Piers smirked.

Jake put an arm around Piers and smiled at Sherry. She really did seem fond of Piers just for himself, not just because she knew that Jake liked him. 

"If you're worried about it, just stick to the bedroom," he told the brunette, glancing down at him. Drolly, he added, "Or you could take about two steps and hang out with me in the kitchen. I'm gonna see if I can cook us something." 

Reluctantly, Piers crawled his way out Jake's arm and off the bed – propping himself up on two shaky legs. Sherry came to his side for support, smiling widely as he braced himself on the door frame.

“I brought a deck of cards – maybe we can play later.” She placed a hand on Piers' back in case he fell over.

“That sounds fun – but didn't you say you wanted to check on Claire?”

The blond woman nodded. 

“I'm on my way.” Giving Jake a smile, she headed off through the RV.

Jake climbed off of the bed and stretched his arms over his head, yawning. He really hadn't slept much lately, but at the moment he didn't care. He had to keep an eye on Redfield at all costs. At least with them all locked in the damned RV, that wouldn't exactly be difficult.

The redhead stepped over near the door and crossed his arms, looking at Piers standing there.

"Sure you're up to movin' around yet?"

The small brunette had leaned his head against the door frame, but he looked up at Jake when he spoke. 

“Yeah, I think so. Like she said – I'm only half dead.” He gave the redhead a weak thumbs up and headed toward the living room. It wasn't a very long walk.

Jake stood in the doorway and watched him for a long moment. When Piers reached the dinette, where Chris was sitting, he decided the brunette wasn't in immediate danger of falling over and proceeded to the kitchen as planned. That was still in sight of the dinette area, anyway.  


* * *

  
Chris looked up as Piers stepped out of the bedroom, surprised to see him walking around. 

"Piers. How are you doing?" He smiled, but seemed a bit sad somehow.

Falling into the booth seat across from him, Piers propped his chin up with an elbow. 

“About the same actually. How about you?” He looked Chris over critically.

Sherry doubled back to them, looking confused. 

“Where's Claire? Did she go outside or something?”

"She's out on an errand with Leon," Chris told her, looking over. "It's a short one," he promised. 

“Man.” The blond sighed and sat down next to Piers. “This place seems a lot smaller without her here.” Sherry glanced around slowly. “But bigger without Wesker.”

“When's he coming back?” Piers asked softly, rubbing his forehead.

"As fast as he can," Chris said quietly, looking at him with worry. He almost reached a hand out, but stopped himself. Piers was probably sick of being poked and prodded and having people touch his face. "He said that it might take him a couple of days," he added more quietly, frowning. He didn't like having Wesker out there somewhere. He hadn't been lying when he'd said that he wanted Wesker here. 

“A couple of days?” Piers cringed and slumped. At least he still looked normal. No red eyes or patchy skin. Of course, he was wearing a scarf and a gray hoodie, so it wasn't like much of him was visible. 

The hoodie was almost the same color as Wesker's sweater...

"I really hope it doesn't take him that long," Chris admitted, sighing. He studied Piers' face and blinked. "There aren't any marks on your face now. How's your hand?" 

The soldier blinked and pulled back the sleeve of his right arm. 

“Perfectly fine. Wesker said that it was a good sign.”

Sherry scooted over closer next to Piers, looping an arm around his and smiling. 

“At least he should know what he's talking about.”

Chris smiled at him again — still that slightly sad smile, but at least it wasn't a frown. This was almost worse, though, like he was hiding some terrible news. 

"...I guess you two must have worked things out with Jake."

Both of the short people across the table stared back at him, eyes suspicious. 

Sherry spoke first, leaning on the table. 

“Yes. We did.” Her blue eyes narrowed. 

Piers' cheeks flushed. 

“Um, how have things been out here?”

Chris actually looked a little pained at the question, and glanced toward the door. 

"Okay. I'm not able to help with most of what we're doing right now." 

“Amen.” Piers sighed, slumping to rest his chin on his arms. “I feel like a sack of potatoes – useless and lumpy.”

Stifling a giggle, Sherry patted his back. 

“You'll be better soon.” She leaned to kiss his cheek and got up from the booth. Waving to Jake, she headed to the front of the RV again. “Hey, I'm going to go see if I can spot Claire from the driver's seat. Be right back.”

Jake leaned out of the kitchen, where he'd been lining up canned goods on the counter, and frowned at the two of them. 

"Look, you're sick, and you're hurt. Stop kickin' yourselves and try to think about something else."

Chris leaned his face on one hand like Piers had been doing before, looking up at the redhead tiredly. 

"Easier said than done. There isn't anything else here."

“Just sickness. Pain.” Piers frowned unhappily, gray eyes drifting to Jake in the kitchen. “And splam.”

The redhead — and the kitchen — were only about three feet away. Jake raised an eyebrow at him and picked up a can of yams from the counter, reading the label critically. 

"And corn syrup, in everything. We'd better revise that saying — now you can always count on death, taxes, and corn syrup."

Piers nodded slowly and turned his attention back to Chris, lowering his voice. Jake wasn't far away, so it was sort of pointless, but he figured it might help Chris open up anyway.

“I'm surprised Wesker would leave you alone for a few days.”

Chris was a bit surprised he was saying so, and it showed. He frowned slightly, lowering his voice as well. 

"This isn't anything. You should see all of the injuries I was dealing with by the time I fought HIM."

He wasn't sure whether to smile or frown there, and looked down at the table top distantly. It had been five years since he'd "killed" Wesker. It felt like another lifetime.

“But you still won.” Piers didn't seem sure if he should smile either. He also stared at the table. “It's funny. He spent years trying to kill you – but you're the one who succeeded.”

Chris sighed softly. 

"Only because he couldn't kill me. He had plenty of chances, Piers. At one point he was standing there with a gun two inches from my face and he didn't fire."

The short man sat up a bit. 

“Did he ever really try?” He looked at Chris with a frown. “Or was it all for show? That doesn't really make sense, though...” Piers rubbed his head again and shrugged a shoulder. “He doesn't seem like he's out to impress anyone.”

"He...I don't know," Chris admitted glumly. "I don't think he ever wanted me dead, or he would've done it. You don't have to worry about this — we've both agreed not to fight anymore."

Piers finally smiled, though it was as sad as Chris's. 

“I'm not worried. I can tell he's not going to hurt you – or me.” He played with the edge of his sleeve absentmindedly. “Just like Jake.”

Chris glanced over Piers' shoulder into the kitchen. 

Apparently Jake was preoccupied, because he said quietly, "Jake's more like Wesker than he knows. He just doesn't see that side."

“Yeah, but I get to. Right when we got to the mall Wesker actually talked to me, but since I've been really sick, Jake's stuck to me like glue.” Piers shifted in his seat. “Which I appreciate – it's just...” 

He leaned on his elbow again and stared at Chris. “It was interesting to talk to Wesker. I've heard so much about him over the years. Horrible stuff. It made me think of him as some huge unbeatable evil force. But when we talked – like, actually talked – it made me realize that he IS a lot like Jake.”

“And isn't all bad,” Chris added, sighing. “I worked with him for two years before the mansion incident, and he was a great captain — the only superior I ever respected.”

There went that sad look again, along with the little smile. “I had so much trouble with authority that I retired from the Air Force at 23...but I respected him.”

Again, Piers returned his smile. “I never really minded being bossed around – as long as it made sense.” He glanced at Jake again, watching the redhead's back while he cooked. “I guess that's why me and you always got along – until the whole Edonia thing. I'm just glad all of that's over. It feels like another me went through all of that stuff.” He leaned his chin on his hands and stared at Chris for a long moment. “It's hard not to wonder about what we could have done differently to prevent all of this. Like Wesker.”

His pale eyes flicked back in Jake's direction for a second before he continued, “I wonder where the point was that he decided to destroy the world? Where he could have decided not to?” Piers' eyebrows pinched sadly and he stared at the shiny table top yet again.

Chris glanced at Jake, too, and frowned. The redhead didn't seem to hear their conversation, so he turned back to Piers. 

"We can't change that. Knowing the perfect moment wouldn't help him now," he said quietly. "I-I don't think he had much choice left by then, though. By the time we fought about it."

By the time he "killed" Wesker, he meant. That was still difficult to wrap his head around — that he had thought Wesker was dead for years, had been the one to do it, himself, and somehow had STILL been unable to stop thinking about him. Jill hadn’t been able to understand. It was the main reason why they weren’t on speaking terms anymore.

“Yeah, I know,” the small brunette mumbled, slumping into the bench more. “When's he coming back, again? A few days?”

The RV rocked slightly. Then the radio on the kitchen counter crackled.

“Chris? You there?”

Chris sat up, but Jake was already across the room and holding the radio by the time he'd gotten to his feet. 

"He's here. What is it?" The redhead spoke into the radio, holding his free hand out to Chris. "Don't get up."

Chris blinked and settled into his seat again. It wasn't like he couldn't move, he just had a few injuries...

“He-ey. Right channel. Yay me,” Leon said jokingly. “We made it to the gas station about three blocks west of you, but we're having some trouble getting back. There's a couple of big guys down there and we're trying not to make too much noise. We're going to try and climb down the back and sneak off – but we might be longer than expected. Just stay inside.” He paused and clicked the radio back on. “Um, did Chris hear any of that?”

Jake frowned and looked at Chris. The brunette sighed and held his hand out for the radio.

Jake handed it to him without any argument, starting for the kitchen again. He paused, though, and felt Piers' forehead. The smaller man's slumping at the table apparently looked worrisome. 

Chris clicked the radio on and replied, "Leon, I heard all of that. You guys okay, or does Jake need to go assist you?"

“I think we've got this. If we get them riled up, we'll take the long way. How you guys doing? Is it still clear outside?”

Piers perked up at Jake's touch, looking sleepily up at him. 

“Your hand feels cold.”

"Yeah, because you're too warm," Jake told him, frowning worriedly. He glanced as Chris stood and headed for the front of the RV, but didn't try to stop him. 

"I'll check," the big brunette commented as he stepped into the front section, where Sherry had apparently decided to stay for the moment. She'd be glad to hear from Leon and Claire anyway.

The little blond woman was relaxing in the driver's seat – hiking boots off and feet up on the dash. She didn't seem to notice him at first, but jumped when she did. 

“Oh, hey Chris – what's up? Is that Claire on the radio?” Sherry watched him intently.

"It's Leon," Chris admitted, giving the view through the windows a quick glance. Outside of the RV looked clear. There weren't any shambling corpses in sight at the moment, despite it being very gloomy and rainy outside. "It's all clear still, Leon. Hey, I think Sherry wants to say hi to Claire." He offered the radio to her.

“Okay,” Leon replied as Sherry took the radio. 

“Hey, find anything good out there?”

Chris heard Claire’s laugh over the radio. 

“No, just gas station stuff. Lights, candles, energy drinks...sardines.”

“Yum.” The blond sighed happily.

“Uh, we weren't going to take them with us...”

“Aww, please? We could have them on the bread before it molds.”

“Fine,” Claire grumbled playfully. “But you owe me.”

“Deal!” Sherry grinned, offering the radio back to Chris.

The brunette accepted the radio back and nodded a little, turning to head to the back of the RV. He didn't really want to sit back there with Jake and Piers and make them feel uncomfortable, but at the same time, Sherry seemed so happy to have this spot as a retreat to herself that he didn't want to ruin it. 

Maybe he could sit on the bed for awhile, or by the door. The RV was a tiny space to be confined in when he'd already felt useless enough beforehand.

Piers was still huddled in the dinette, arms under his chin and eyes half closed. 

“...Did you say yams earlier, or was that wishful thinking?”

"They're in the oven," Jake told him, patting his back. He'd sat down beside the little brunette rather than returning to the kitchen. 

Neither of them seemed to notice Chris, so he stepped past as quietly as he could to go see if there was anywhere to sit past the bed. 

Aside from the queen sized bed that dominated the bedroom, there were two closets and some drawers. Nowhere to perch and have a moment to himself.

Resigned to having to sit around and listen to Jake and Piers' conversation rather than give them any privacy, Chris reluctantly headed back out to the "living room" area and took a seat on the lone chair by the door. It wasn't like going outside was an option. Maybe they'd feel more comfortable if he at least made it look like he'd fallen asleep.

On his second entry into the room, Piers looked over at him. 

“Captain – you can have the bed for awhile. My back was getting stiff from laying around so much anyway.” He glanced at Jake expectantly.

Chris held up a hand to protest and realized the radio was still held in it. That half-second of hesitation was long enough for Jake to beat him to the reply. 

"Yeah, you should get some rest. You look beat," the redhead informed him. No protest whatsoever. Chris concluded that they must really want a minute or two without him in the room. 

Sighing, he stood and came over to place the radio on the table. 

"Just tired. If anybody radios with news, wake me up, okay?" 

Jake gave him a nod — a very serious nod, actually — and so Chris headed back to the bed. It seemed like Jake's and Piers' and Sherry's bed; a bit strange for him to be sleeping in.

The straps were still hanging off of the bed frame, but the bed itself was plush and inviting.

Chris had already climbed halfway onto the bed before it occurred to him that he didn't have to sleep in all of his gear, or with his boots on. Maybe he was just tired and not thinking straight, but sleeping without them for once actually sounded really nice. 

After he took off the gun and knife holsters he'd been wearing, the boots, and a bunch of pouches filled with ammunition, he felt a lot lighter. Still, sinking into the bed on his face was far too easy, and he was asleep before he remembered to get a blanket.


	27. Sick

Chris's head felt heavy when he woke up, almost painful. It wasn’t much surprise, considering all of the head injuries he had gotten lately. But he wasn't laying on his face anymore – he was propped up against a familiar red couch. Alone.

There was a blanket laid over him carefully and a cup of coffee on the desk in front of him. There was a folded note under the edge of the cup.

Red couch? Coffee. Chris blinked at the cup and the note under the edge, recognizing the sense of disorientation by now. He was in the dream world again. 

He'd forgotten all about what he'd done here last, distracted from it by the moving around and worrying he'd been doing lately in real life. The scent of coffee brought it all back, though, like the last chapter of a book he'd just picked up again. Wesker. He'd come home drunk, and Wesker hadn't been happy about it.

And Leon had stayed the night on their couch. How much time had passed in the dream world? It seemed to be the same as in the real world – which meant it had been since they had left the mall.

It was...morning maybe? It was early enough that the sun wasn't shining through the office's window yet.

His head was definitely throbbing bad enough to be a hangover, he realized. Sighing, he reached for the note and unfolded it, then picked up the coffee and sipped it as he read. 

The note wasn't very long.

“If you wake up and this is cold, reheat it. Cold coffee isn't real coffee. ~Al”

And the coffee was certainly cold.

Chris glanced down into the mug and then back to the note, and couldn't help the little smile. He had read it in Wesker's voice. The blond seemed very serious about his coffee. 

Reheating it was probably a good idea. Besides, Chris reasoned as he stood and slowly started toward the door, this way he could see if Leon was still out there on the couch. Hopefully without throwing up on the way. The hangover seemed like mostly the headache variety.

His friend was laying on the couch, arms and legs sprawled out in every direction. The glass of water that Wesker had left him was half full – so at least Leon had drank a little bit of it before he passed out.

He stirred as Chris approached, rolling up on to his elbows to peer at the brunette with one bloodshot blue eye. He coughed and cringed. 

“Did we...did he...DO anything to me?”

Chris opened his mouth to reply that no, Wesker hadn't punched him or anything, it was just the hangover talking. Then he realized that Leon probably wasn't referring to Wesker, and quickly shook his head. A little too quickly, probably.

"Joseph took us home," he assured the blond, wincing a little. He'd thought he felt bad until he got a better look at Leon. Clearly, the guy wasn't used to drinking much.

“Ugh.” The blond laid back down, slapping a hand into his hair. “Remind me to thank him.” He crawled slowly to a sitting position, hand still to his head. “And to never drink again.” 

Piers suddenly came darting into the room, still dressed in a pair of cute dinosaur print PJs. He hugged onto Chris's leg happily.

“Good morning dad!”

Chris very narrowly avoided tossing the coffee cup across the room. Right, kids, he had kids in the dream world. How hung over was he? 

"Good morning," he told the little boy, mustering up a smile and trying to ignore how much his head was throbbing. Leon had the right idea, never drink again. Placing the cup aside on the coffee table, he scooped Piers up and hugged him. 

Piers threw his arms around Chris's neck and hugged him back. 

“Who's the man in the hallway? Is that Sherry's dad?” Huge pale gray eyes locked onto Chris. “Is he sick?”

Leon squinted up at them unhappily – then reached for the water glass.

"Someone's in the hallway?" Chris frowned and started that way, questions already racing through his head. How had the man gotten in? Had Wesker forgotten to lock the front door? That didn't seem like something he'd do...

It didn't make sense for it to be William. Birkin was probably working with Wesker right now — right?

There was indeed a man lingering in the hallway. He was tall, pale and dirty blond. Piers had been right, he looked very sickly — thin and worn. Spotting Chris hurrying into the hall, Birkin held up his bony hands in surrender. 

“Chris, r-right?”

The brunette hugged Piers a little closer and frowned.

"Yes, it's Chris. You're William, right? What are you doing in my house?" 

“Waiting f-for Albert,” the blond stammered quickly, pointing to the door he was hanging around. “I'm sorry to just d-drop in – he said you were still asleep.” Birkin shifted on his feet and glanced at the door, with a hopeful look that it would magically open and save him.

"I was," Chris told him flatly, not bothering to glance at the door. He was pretty sure Wesker wasn't home. The note had been left when the coffee was still hot...unless Wesker came back for something, and let Birkin in. He'd prefer that to the man having his own key, that was for sure...

Birkin shrunk uncomfortably. 

“We thought we didn't wake anybody up. I'm sorry.” He gestured weakly down the hall towards the living room. “I can go wait in the car.” Keeping as much space as possible between him and Chris, he scurried around the big man and disappeared around the corner. The front door opened and closed just as quickly.

Chris hadn't actually intended to kick him out, but he couldn't pretend that it wasn't a relief to have the man gone for the moment. He glanced down at Piers and smiled sheepishly. 

"You were right, that WAS Sherry's daddy."

“Thought so.” Piers grinned proudly. His eyes suddenly lit up. “Does that mean Sherry's here too? Can she come play?”

"I think she's at home with her mommy," Chris said apologetically, placing the kid on his feet on the floor. "I'm going to talk to your daddy for a minute — why don't you go say hi to Leon? Be nice, he doesn't feel good.

“Okay,” the toddler said sadly, slumping and heading back into the living room.

Chris sighed. That reaction made him wish Sherry was there after all. He turned to the door and knocked lightly on it, glancing down the hall to be sure Piers had really left.

There was no reply from inside.

Wesker probably thought it was William being impatient — if the guy had the guts to be impatient, which was doubtful. Chris frowned and tried the doorknob.

The door opened easily – revealing Wesker's office. The lights weren't even on.

This reminded Chris of too many times when he'd stepped into a dark room and had something jump at him. He cautiously reached over and flicked the light switch.

The office was different than the cozy one where his red couch was. There were a few computers – laptops and desktops alike – but nothing unusual.

Birkin hadn't gone inside before, but Wesker was nowhere to be seen. Maybe the sickly-looking blond really did have a key.

Chris looked around the room, a wave of uneasiness washing over him. Umbrella. Birkin. They weren't supposed to be anything sinister in this world, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was still not right with them. 

Stepping out of the room, he closed the door and leaned to check on Jake in his room. The redhead was wrapped in his blankets and fast asleep, late to rise as usual. Chris returned to the living room to check on Leon and Piers next.

Leon was sitting and sipping his water, a cheerful Piers sitting on his knee.

“Which made all the penguins learn to fly!” The toddler finished with a cute smile.

“Next time, the panda should invite the kiwi,” Leon added glumly.

Piers wrinkled his nose. 

“That'd be silly – fruit can't fly!”

Leon just shook his head and ruffled Piers' hair.

Chris nodded at them and stepped past toward the kitchen, snagging the cordless phone on his way there. He didn't actually know Wesker's number, but it was still on the phone from his call the other night. Last night? Who knew. Chris punched the button and waited while it rang.

It picked up after one ring. 

“Hello – this is Wesker,” came the calm reply on the other end.

"It's Chris," Chris said quickly, keeping his voice low. He didn't want Piers and Leon to hear him sounding uneasy. "Where are you?"

“Ah. You're awake,” the blond said coldly. “I'm on my way home now – why?”

Wow, he sounded about as thrilled as Chris felt. 

Annoyed, the brunette replied just as coldly, "Because I just woke up to Piers telling me that there was a strange man in the hallway. What, did you give William his own key to the place?"

“Bill? No, of course not,” Wesker said, actually sounding concerned. “I'll be home in a few minutes – have him wait outside.”

"He told me YOU were here and he was standing around outside your office waiting for you. It was very weird," Chris told him, still annoyed. "When I didn't leave him to it, he said he'd wait in the car and ran outside. Ran."

A spine tingling chuckle came through the phone. 

“I'll have a talk to him when I get home...how are you feeling?”

Chris actually moved the phone away from his ear and frowned at it. That didn't sound like Al, that sounded like WESKER. The real Wesker. 

"I'm fine," he said glumly, moving the phone close enough to speak into again. "I thought you were too tired to work last night." 

“I slept for a few hours and then Bill called. There were some things that couldn't wait. Don't worry – I had a pot of coffee before I got in the car. Listen.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I'm sorry that I got mad last night. I know that you like to have a good time. Just...would it be possible for at least one of you not to be smashed? What if something had happened?”

Chris turned his back to the counter and leaned on it with one hand, glancing sidelong at the coffee pot. It was indeed empty. That meant that Wesker had saved the one cup from it just for him. The cup he'd left in the living room, unfortunately.

"The original plan was a bar — I was going to catch a cab," he sighed. "Krauser changed things up at the last minute." That was the best reasoning he could give for something that he hadn't actually been consciously present for. He'd arrived at the beach in one dream, and returned completely drunk in the next. 

“You DID catch a cab, Chris. Joseph caught you one and dragged you home. Which reminds me, how is our guest?”

“Dad!” Piers whined, coming into the kitchen. He was scratching at his cast unhappily. “Leon says that penguins can't fly because they're too fat!”

"Well that's just rude," Chris told the kid, hiding a smile. "They can't fly because their wings are too tiny." Into the phone, he added with a sigh, "Worse off than me. You should probably get off of the phone if you're driving."

“It's actually helping me stay awake – but yes. I should be home in about five minutes. Love you – see you soon.”

Piers waved his good arm, having overheard the phone. 

“Love you too daddy!”

"I love you, and so does Piers," Chris informed his husband. "See you soon." He hung up the phone and placed it on the counter, turning and picking up Piers for a hug. "You probably shouldn't talk too loud around Leon right now. His head hurts." 

He started back toward the living room.

“Yeah...” Piers thought it over for a minute. “He hid in the bathroom.” He looked at the front door as they came into the living room. “Can Sherry's dad come back? I wanna ask if Sherry can come over!”

"He's in the bathroom?" Chris asked worriedly, glancing toward the hallway. "Piers, Sherry's dad had to leave. Your daddy is coming home soon, though." He ruffled the kid's hair and smiled.

“But he's outside!” The toddler pointed. “I just wanna ask, please please?” He mustered up his best puppy eyes – which were pretty damn impressive – and clasped his fingers together.

Chris glanced out the window at the front yard next, sighing. William was, indeed, still out there. And Piers was looking at him with such big, nearly tearful eyes that it was unbearable. 

"He has to talk to daddy first. He was looking for daddy," Chris told him, stepping over and picking up the coffee mug from the coffee table. He stepped back into the kitchen carrying it and Piers, and went to microwave the coffee. "I'll ask about Sherry coming over after that, okay?"

“Yay!” Piers cheered, kicking his feet. “Then we can go to the beach and make a bigger sand castle!” He leaned against Chris and rested his chin on his shoulder. He was quiet for a long moment and then he sat back up to stare at Chris. “Is daddy okay now?”

Chris looked down at him and blinked. 

"Was he not okay before?"

The microwave beeped and made him jump a little. He opened the door and pulled the cup out carefully.

“Daddy said he had to leave.” Piers sighed cutely. “He was sick looking and said that he'd be better when he came home.” He looked up at Chris curiously. “He's coming home – so he's better, right?” 

Chris abandoned the coffee and patted Piers on the back instead. 

"Yeah. He sounded like he's better," he assured. Inwardly, he was beginning to wonder if Wesker and Birkin both seemed so tired all the time just because of their crazy work schedules, or because of something...Umbrella-related.

Tires screeched to a halt outside of the house – followed shortly by loudly slamming car doors. Wesker had arrived.

Chris stepped out of the kitchen and toward the hallway, knocking lightly on the bathroom door. 

"Leon, you okay in there?" He figured he'd give Wesker a chance to talk to William — Bill — like he'd said he would.

There was a low groan from inside of the bathroom. 

“Ugh...yeah. Doing great. Do you need to use it or something?” Leon asked politely.

Piers wrinkled his nose.

"No, just making sure you're not passed out on your face," Chris assured him. "Take your time, we've got a second bathroom." Poor Leon. Chris wasn't nearly so ill.

With how Wesker had reacted, it seemed like he might drink on a regular basis and have more of a tolerance. 

Piers rubbed his cast again, listening to the door with disgust. 

“I don't want to get sick again. Then Jake'll get sick and he'll whine about it – and sleep even more!”

Amused, Chris turned and stepped back into the living room with Piers. 

"Don't worry, you can't catch this kind of sick. His tummy's upset, that's all." He glanced at the door. Wesker had yet to come inside. 

The sun had finally come up. It had to be at least seven or eight. He could see Wesker and Birkin outside of the living room window. 

They looked like they were arguing more than talking. Birkin's back was to the house and Wesker had his finger shoved in the other man's face as if scolding him.

Piers saw this and flattened against him, eyes wide. He turned and buried his face under the large brunette's chin.

Chris sighed and cuddled the toddler, moving away from the window. 

"Hey, maybe we better go check on Jake. It's pretty late for him to still be in bed," he said, starting for the hallway.

“Okay,” Piers agreed quickly. “Why is daddy so mad? I thought Sherry's daddy was his friend?” The toddler asked softly, watching the hall as they passed through it.

"I'm pretty sure daddy doesn't want Bill coming to work here in the house," Chris told him gently. "Daddy works so much at work that when he gets home, he probably just wants to be with us. You know?" He wished he could believe his own story. That would be the best-case scenario. 

Stepping into Jake's room, Chris peeked at the bed. Short red hair was still visible from the edge of the pillow the kid had pulled over his head.

Seeing the redhead's hair, Piers smiled a bit and waved his arm. 

“Can I wake him up?”

Chris sat him on the floor. 

"Be nice, you know he's slow in the morning."

“Jake!” Piers called to his brother happily, crawling up onto the bed. “Wake up! You'll miss breakfast!”

The redhead groaned and hugged the pillow tighter over his head. 

"M'not hungry."

Chris raised an eyebrow. He'd actually responded with words. He must have been more awake than they thought.

Piers gasped and yanked on the covers. 

“Is your tummy upset?” Giving up on pulling back the covers, he laid down next to Jake and shook him. “Is it your tummy? Are you gonna puke?”

Chris was about to say something, but paused when Jake poked his head out from under the pillow and scowled. 

"What? No. Are you sick?" He looked at his brother suspiciously and scooted away a bit.

“No, but uncle Leon is. He's puking all over the bathroom,” Piers stated. “You need to keep up your strength and eat breakfast – dad's making it!”

"I...am," Chris agreed dubiously. No lucky breaks this time — Leon was too sick to help out, and the poor guy would probably barf all over again at the smell of food cooking. Especially the way Chris cooked it.

Jake sighed and shoved the pillow off the side of the bed, reluctantly sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. 

"Where's daddy? Why's uncle Leon here?"

"Because he's too sick to go home right now," Chris told him. "Daddy's home, he'll be in here in a few minutes."

“So come on!” Piers grabbed Jake's arm and hauled him out of bed. “Maybe dad can make toast with jelly!”

"Dad doesn't know how ta cook jelly without burning it," Jake grumbled, crawling out of bed the rest of the way and following his brother to the door. He broke into a large yawn just as they reached Chris.

"Yeah, I'm not all awake yet, either," Chris told him sympathetically, stepping aside and holding the door for them. "Come on, let's go see what's in the kitchen."

“Cereal,” Piers said sadly, following the hallway back to the living room. 

Leon had returned from the bathroom. He was laying on his face on the couch, blanket tugged up around his shoulders.

As they passed, Piers patted his head gently.

Jake glanced at him, frowned, and made a wide arc around him to head into the kitchen. 

Chris patted Piers' head in turn, smiling. 

"He'll be okay, he just needs to rest. We'll bring him some more water in a minute, here."

“I like uncle Leon, but he thinks fruit can fly,” Piers informed his brother loudly.

As they all went into the kitchen, Chris heard the door open and close very quietly behind them.

"Flying fruit is definitely a little weird," Chris told the kids, pausing in the doorway and glancing back. Wesker had probably already had a very long night, and then there was that drawn-out argument with Birkin. He couldn't possibly be in a good mood.

The tall blond looked his way, blue eyes very tired. He gave Chris a small wave and came over to him. 

“What's for breakfast?” Wesker asked quietly.

"We were just getting to that question," Chris answered just as quietly, glancing at the kids. They were both looking into the fridge and having a whispered discussion about what was inside.

Satisfied that they were distracted, Chris stepped closer and greeted his husband with a brief kiss, sighing. "Sorry I was snappy on the phone. You've probably had a long day already. Well, night."

Wesker hugged him tightly, resting his chin on Chris's shoulder. 

“I'll be alright. I just have some catching up to do. Should I cook breakfast before I lay down?”

As bad as he felt for feeding the kids whatever he could manage to cook, Chris would have felt worse asking Wesker to cook when he was this exhausted. He put his arms around the blond and rubbed his back.

"Let me handle it. You just get some rest, okay?"

“I just have a few emails to send out and then I will.” Wesker frowned. “I'm sorry I won't be around for breakfast. I can't seem to dodge work lately.”

“Dad, can we have dinosaur shaped pancakes with blueberries?”

Chris sighed and released Wesker from the hug, glancing back into the kitchen. 

"Er. Do we have a cookbook anywhere? You seem to make everything from scratch," he told the blond quietly.

Wesker sighed. 

“I'll try to remember to buy you one.” He kissed Chris's cheek and started slowly toward the bedroom, pausing to check Leon's pulse along the way.

Piers came over to Chris's legs again and looked up at him. 

“Can we order pizza for breakfast?”

Chris patted the kid's head and smiled unhappily. 

"You know, that's not a bad idea. Maybe they could put breakfast stuff on it, like bacon and eggs."  


* * *

  
"Here, let's try this." Jake took a seat beside Piers again, dabbing at his cheeks and forehead with the wet washcloth he'd brought back. The sniper was feverish again, and Jake had realized that Wesker had said how often to give Piers his treatments, but not when the next one was. 

The little soldier immediately cuddled up against Jake's shoulder, resting his head there. He sighed. 

“I wish I could remember how it felt to be healthy,” Piers grumbled, looking tiredly up at Jake. He had seemed almost normal not even a few hours ago – like he had finally made it through the worst of it. Then, right back to a fever.

Jake paused in the middle of patting his cheek, studying his face. Piers looked exhausted, his gray eyes pale against the flush across his cheeks. 

"Yeah. I barely met you before you and Redfield went off to fight that thing," he said, bothered. Sherry had thought they should have stayed behind to help. He wondered if things would have turned out differently if they had.

Reading the guilt on Jake's face, Piers shook his head. 

“All of that was a long time ago now.” He patted the redhead's back lightly. “Let's just move on from there.” The brunette swallowed and nodded. “I'll beat this. Or at least, Wesker will. I trust him.”

"You do?" Jake was surprised to hear that. Part of why he felt like he had to stay near Piers was to protect him from Wesker. 

“To create a cure, yes.” Piers watched him from under hooded eyes. He closed his eyes and spoke very softly – almost hazily. “He wants to start over, too.”

Jake placed the cloth aside on the table, patting the smaller man's back gently. 

"Curing you would be a good head start," he said quietly. He was pretty sure Piers was mostly asleep at that point. 

Piers stirred, fighting to stay awake. 

“Um...uh...” He mumbled quietly. “Yes.”

Jake felt his forehead again. 

"I can pull out the second bed if you want to sleep for a bit. I'll keep an eye on ya," he offered, trying to be nonchalant about it. Piers didn't need to worry about biting Chris or attacking Sherry while trying to sleep.

“Can't we just stay here?” The brunette muttered, hugging Jake tightly. 

There were light footsteps behind them as Sherry came back from the front of the RV. 

Jake slipped his arms around Piers and rubbed his back. 

"Or we could just stay here," he agreed, glancing over at Sherry. She'd been in the front of the RV for quite awhile.

The little blond woman had ditched her boots – revealing a pair of pink and white striped ankle socks on her feet. She came over to the dinette and looked at Piers critically. 

“How's he doing?”

"Feverish again," Jake said very quietly, still looking at her. He reached one arm out to beckon her closer, keeping the other around Piers. "How about you? Need anything?"

“Oh no. I was just wondering what smelled like food back here.” Sherry smiled at him, hugging him briefly before heading for the kitchen. She poked around at the lab equipment on one side of the counter. “Is Wesker making something edible?”

"Not sure he remembers how to eat," Jake said drolly — and still quietly — glancing back at her. "It wasn't him; I made some candied yams."

He glanced down at Piers to be sure the talking hadn't awakened him.

The small man in his arms was sound asleep against his chest, cheeks rosy pink. If an infectious zombie virus hadn't been the reason for his blushing, it would have been cute.

Sherry opened the small oven and smiled. 

“Ooh. They look good.” She snagged an oven mitt and sat them on the stove top to cool. Despite Leon and Claire being somewhere surrounded by zombies, Sherry didn't seem worried. She probably knew that the two old friends were good at surviving by now.

"Help yourself, we've got a few more cans for later," Jake told her, feeling Piers' cheek gently with the back of his hand. He didn't feel any more feverish than before, at least. Feverish at all still wasn't great, though.

"...You heard Claire and Leon aren't comin' back for a bit, right?" He wasn't sure if Chris and Piers were the only ones to hear that, or if Chris had told her when he'd gone to the front.

Sherry glanced at him and frowned. 

“No – are they stuck somewhere? Claire didn't say anything...” She stared sadly at the yams.

Jake glanced back to her again and nodded. 

"Yeah, the gas station near here. Leon radioed and said they could get back if they took the long route, but that's why it's taking so long." He frowned a little and looked down. "Hey...about Wesker."

Sherry flinched at the sound of his name, turning to fix Jake with a serious frown. 

“What about him?”

"Tellin' him off was totally justified back there," the redhead began, holding up a hand. "And you were great, and if it happened again I'd do the same things over again."

Her frown didn't change as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Okay...” Sherry watched him suspiciously. “I feel like there's another part to that.”

Jake sighed and lowered his hand, nodding down at Piers. 

"Yeah. We should let HIM decide if he's okay with Wesker putting the straps on or not." 

He frowned. He hated the idea, personally. He didn't trust Wesker not to tie them too tight, or not care if Piers was comfortable first, or leave him alone tied up and ignore him. But Piers hadn't been angry about Wesker tying him down — he'd thought it was the right decision under the circumstances.

“Jake,” Sherry's expression softened and she came over to his side to place a hand on his shoulder. “Piers isn't feeling very good. I'm not sure he should be the one to decide how he's cared for. Wesker's not exactly gentle.”

"He's not delirious like he was before," Jake told her, moving one hand over to rest on top of hers. He looked up at her and couldn't frown quite so much, either. She was clearly concerned for Piers, too.

"...All everybody's done since he got here is push him around," he continued more quietly. "Even if we're helping, he doesn't get to be in control of anything that happens to him. C'mon, you remember what that's like."

“Of course I do.” She replied sadly, looking at Piers. “But that doesn't mean we have to trust Wesker-”

She was cut off by the slamming of the RV door. It slapped loudly against the wall as a dripping figure came inside. 

Speak of the devil.

Sherry was almost in Jake's lap – having backed up in surprise as wind and rain bellowed into the door behind Wesker.

The soaked man closed the RV door slowly. The 'rain' dripping off of him was red.

Jake wrapped an arm around the blond woman, the other holding Piers tightly still. All of the noise had probably awakened him, but at the moment the redhead was focused on his father, who looked like he'd been on some kind of killing spree. 

With surprising care, Wesker sat the large bag he was carrying down on the counter and began to strip off his coat. The back of his jacket had a long slice across it. 

Sherry recovered from her surprise and stepped out of Jake's reach toward Wesker, frowning. 

“Are you okay?”

The tall man spun around and held out a palm towards her in warning. 

“Don't touch me.”

“Like I was going to,” Sherry grumbled. She gasped suddenly, finally noticing the piece of metal protruding from Wesker's stomach. “Ugh!”

Lips in a thin frown, Wesker pulled his knife from his shoulder strap.

Jake leaned around Sherry and frowned at the blond man. 

"What the hell were you fighting, a car? You're back way too early." He didn't like that. Something was seriously wrong. 

Wesker stared at them coldly and stabbed the knife into his side, sawing towards the metal.

“Okay, that's gross.” Sherry cringed, shook her head and pointed to the door. “If you want to cut some huge piece of metal out of your stomach – do it outside! You're going to give my unborn child nightmares!”

With a disgruntled snort, the blond man headed out of the door again.

Jake shifted Piers so that he could stand up and pick the brunette up as well. 

"What the hell? Zombies don't stab you with hunks of metal," he muttered, looking at the door — and the bloody spot on the floor in front of it. His gaze moved to the slightly bloodied bag Wesker had left on the counter, as well. What was it?

Sherry rubbed her forehead. 

“Well, I doubt he just walked into it – someone must have attacked him, but how in the world did they catch him?”

Piers looked sleepily around the room, eyes resting on the blood puddle. 

“Should I wake Chris up?” Sherry whispered. She glanced back at the bedroom. Wesker was much less...spirited with Chris around. 

Jake nodded, glancing at the bedroom as well. 

"Good idea. I'll keep an eye on Piers." He glanced down at the brunette worriedly. Piers hadn't stirred much, even with the noise from the storm.

Sherry hurried back to the bedroom.

Piers didn't seem bothered by the blood, rain and worried voices. His head was leaned against the redhead's shoulder and his eyes were closed again.


	28. Messed Up

The RV door opened – quietly – and Wesker returned, bloody knife in hand. He hadn't managed to remove the metal though, and instead there was a long cut up his side. He dropped his sweater on top of his jacket and tried to lean casually on the kitchen counter.

“How is Piers?”

Jake stepped over to the dinette and placed Piers gently on the bench, feeling his forehead one more time. He moved back over to Wesker and looked at the chunk of metal still stuck in his stomach, arching an eyebrow. 

"He's feverish." He gestured in Wesker's direction vaguely, adding, "Need a hand with that?"

“The fever is actually a good sign. The treatment is working.” Still holding the blood covered knife, Wesker turned and picked a thermometer off of the pile of lab equipment and offered it to Jake. “Make sure it doesn't get too high, though.”

"Yeah, great," Jake said with a frown, but only glanced down at the thermometer. "You never told me when to give him the next shot, just how far to space them apart. For the record." 

“About an hour from now. I thought that you could remember the last time.” There was a slight waver to the hand holding the thermometer, but Wesker kept it hanging there. 

Sherry yanked on Chris's arm and lead him back into the main room. 

“See? Make him go outside.”

Jake glanced over as they arrived. Chris looked a little tired and disoriented, and much less imposing in his sweater and jeans than his usual military clothing and gun holsters and the like. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the state Wesker was in, staring at him. 

Wesker took a quick step toward the door, dropping the knife down to his side. 

“Stay back – it isn't serious.”

Sherry went to Piers' side and patted his head gently.

Jake finally took the thermometer from him, retreating back to Piers and Sherry. Chris was stepping closer to Wesker at the same time, looking down at the damage in a carefully even kind of way. 

"What happened?" He stopped a few feet away, noticing the blood on the floor as well. He frowned.

Wesker frowned at him and lowered his voice. 

“They shouldn't have awakened you for this.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving a red smear through the blond strands. His scowl deepened. “There are other survivors – most likely the ones that Rebecca was referring to. I...was careless.” He glanced down at his side and then back up to Chris. “You should go back to bed.”

"I told them to wake me if there was any news," Chris replied softly, watching the red streak through his hair. His brows pinched unhappily. "Is there anything we can do to help? You can't just stay like this." He glanced down at the piece of metal again pointedly.

Very slowly, Wesker glanced in Jake's direction. 

“I can handle it. The metal was bent when I rolled. I need to...never mind. I'm fine.”

Seeing as how Jake was with Piers again, Sherry came back over to Chris's side to glare at Wesker. 

“Rolled? So it WAS a car.”

"Are there any of them left to worry about?" Chris asked next, deciding not to press about the injuries. Wesker clearly didn't want to let any of them help him, if any of them even could. At least after everything Chris had tried over the years, he was sure this kind of injury couldn't kill the man.

“Yes,” Wesker replied grimly.

“Did they follow you?” Sherry asked next, losing the glare finally.

The blond man shook his head. 

“No. They thought...that I was...dead and left.” He patted the metal chunk lightly as he spoke, but thought better of it and backed to the door. Turning and opening the door, he half fell outside.

Sherry started after him, pausing at the door. 

“Wesker?”

"Sherry...let me," Chris told her worriedly, stepping over as well. It was still raining outside, though not as heavily as before. "Wesker?" He leaned out the door to look for the blond.

“Don't touch him, Chris. The blood all over him is HIS,” the little woman pointed out quickly.

Wesker was laying face down just off of the step, knife in a puddle of mud beside him. Had he really just passed out?

"Jake!" Chris waved at the redhead. "Sherry, I need you to watch Piers for a minute." He felt useless. There Wesker was, collapsed on the ground and injured, and Chris couldn't lift a finger to help. At least Jake could.

“Okay!” Sherry darted back across the room to Piers. She didn't care for Wesker much, but the least she could do was to be helpful to Chris.

Piers was still dozing, head propped on his arms.

Jake was already standing ready to move when she got there, but refused to leave Piers until Sherry was with him. He patted the blond's shoulder and stepped past. 

"I take it he passed out or something," he told Chris when he got to the doorway.

The brunette frowned and held the door open, stepping aside. 

"Bring him in here."

Jake shrugged and hopped out the door into the mud. 

"You sure? Think it'd be better to get this metal out first out here," he told Chris, taking hold of Wesker's arms and lifting him up out of the puddle he'd fallen into. The rain rinsed the mud off pretty fast.

"He said it's bent," Chris replied quietly. "I think it's stuck in place."

Jake paused and laid Wesker down on his back, taking a closer look at the wound.

The piece of metal was stuck straight through the right side of his father's ribcage, partly twisted up and around his back – which would make it really hard for Wesker to reach by himself. The front looked very bad. The knife had been used to cut open a large area around the chunk, but it still was wound around his back and firmly in place.

Jake sat back and crossed his arms, raising both eyebrows. 

"Wow. He'll heal up from this if we get the metal out of the way, right?" If not, Wesker was going to look a lot more like a zombie from now on.

"I think so." Chris looked a little worried about it, himself. He looked down at Wesker uneasily, then glanced back into the RV. "...Do what you can, Jake. Doing something is better than doing nothing."

"This might take a few minutes," Jake told him dubiously, taking hold of one of the ends of the metal with both hands and giving it a test bend to see how tough it was. 

Chris nodded, leaning on the doorframe. He felt like he had to do something, but he couldn't. Watching Jake probably wasn't going to help anything.

“Okay,” Leon appeared around the front of the RV, scanning over the dimly lit scene. “This doesn't look good.”

Claire was close behind him with several grocery bags in her hands. Her eyes widened at Wesker on the ground. 

“Jake! Did you kill him?”

The redhead scowled at her.

"Funny."

"A car rolled over him," Chris informed them grimly. "Did any stragglers follow you? Jake really needs to keep him out here until he gets the metal out." 

As if that was his cue, Jake returned to testing the metal. He could actually bend it with his hands, though it seemed to take some effort.

“I don't think so – but we can keep an eye out if you need us to.” Claire nodded to Leon, who agreed.

“I never thought I'd see him passed out,” the ex-agent said, sitting his bags inside the RV and returning with his pistol out. “It's a little surreal.”

Chris nodded to them. 

"I've seen it a few times. He's not invincible." He glanced at the sound of twisting metal creaking and saw that Jake had straightened out the piece of metal that had curved around Wesker's back. The part stabbed through him hadn't gone anywhere.

Leon followed his gaze and cringed. 

“Look. We need to move as soon as this is done. There are a lot of zombies gathered by that gas station. Any loud noises could alert them to our presence, and I don't think we have the bullets to take out a crowd that big.” 

"That's not our only problem," Chris told him, still watching Wesker. "The ones who did this got away. He said they thought he was dead and left." An easy enough mistake to make, if they had thought Wesker was a regular human being...although the red eyes had to have been hard to miss.

“I'm going to put the gas in the RV,” Claire commented, leaving Leon to guard them. She snagged a gas can from near the front tire and went off around the vehicle.

“Great. So military, zombie horde and evil car people,” the blond grumbled, looking around them slowly. “Wesker has great timing.”

"Somebody needs to call Rebecca and Billy back," Chris told Leon. "They were picking off any stragglers that got too close to the RV while you guys were gone, but they don't have a radio."

There was another loud metallic creak — and then a clang as Jake tossed one of the two bloodied pieces of metal aside. The other he was still working on. It was more wedged between ribs than the first.

Wesker's head sat up suddenly, a hand crushing Jake's wrist in a tight grip. He took a few breaths, mouth curling into a snarl. 

“What are you doing?”

Jake actually winced — the grip was a pretty strong one. 

"Take a wild guess! Shut up and hold still, I'm almost done."

Flopping his head back, Wesker released him. The blond still seemed a little stunned. He looked around and took note of Leon standing guard.

A gust of wind slapped mud in their faces and the sky grumbled loudly. The storm wasn't going to wait much longer.

Chris reluctantly looked away from Wesker and up at the sky. There were low-hanging dark clouds, and the rain was starting to patter down harder. 

"Hurry, Jake, we've got to get moving."

The redhead grumbled something under his breath and let go of the metal he'd been bending, getting to his feet. Unceremoniously, he braced a boot on Wesker's chest and yanked the second piece of metal out, dropping it off to the side. 

Wesker immediately shoved Jake's boot off of his chest and rolled up onto his side. The red eyed man wrapped an arm over his side and pushed off of the mud. He braced a leg under himself and looked like he might try to stand, but didn't manage it. 

“Claire? How's it coming?” Leon called, circling around the RV to find Chris's sister.

Annoyed, Jake took one step back to get his footing again, then stuck a hand in front of his father's face. 

"I'm helping you because Redfield asked me to. C'mon."

Chris frowned and stepped aside to hold the door. He had never been more aware that Wesker was technically just as infected as Piers than now. Hopefully the damage would heal up, at least...right?

After a long, unhappy pause of consideration, Wesker took the hand offered to him and pulled himself to his feet.

“We're good to go!” Claire called as she and Leon rejoined the group. “But we need to stick some boards under the tires – the mud's too deep.” She tossed the empty gas can into one of the RV's exterior storage compartments before hurrying off around it again, Leon in tow.

"We need to contact Billy and Rebecca," Chris reminded them. They should have checked in by now, especially without a radio...

Jake pulled Wesker's arm up to drape over his shoulder, leading the blond toward the RV. 

Wesker went willingly, trying not to lean on him too much.

Leon paused. 

“They gave their radio away earlier – I'll go up and tell them once we're ready.”

"Headlights will draw attention — we've got zombies AND people to worry about out there. Once the engine's running, we'll need to move fast," Chris said, glancing at Jake and Wesker as they passed him. 

Jake led his father around the corner to the bedroom area, not wanting any of the blood to get near Sherry at the dinette table. Luckily the rain had washed the blood and rain from before off.

Wesker stopped, grabbing the door frame to keep Jake from leading him further. He looked back to make sure that Chris had made it inside safely.

Leon waved a hand to Chris. 

“Claire knows where we're heading and I'll tell Billy and Rebecca. We've got it covered – get everyone settled in, it might be bumpy.”

Chris nodded and ducked back inside, closing the door. He turned around to find Wesker and Jake both standing near the bedroom, but looking back at him almost expectantly. 

"We're about to move," he told them quietly, carefully stepping around the bloodied spot on the floor near the door. There was a pretty good drippy trail of blood leading to the bedroom as well, and muddy footprints. He could feel the worry showing on his face, but tried his best to sound confident. "Wesker and Piers get moved to the bed."

He stepped over to help lift the sleeping brunette from the dinette bench where Jake had placed him earlier.

“I'm not 'being moved' anywhere – I have work to do,” Wesker growled, shoving away from Jake and returning to the kitchen.

Sherry and Piers were sitting side by side at the dinette table. The small brunette was still dozing from his fever.

Chris very nearly stuck a hand out to his chest to stop him, but remembered not to at the last moment. 

"You're bleeding all over the place," he told the blond, glancing down at his stomach. "It's infected blood — if you don't bandage up, you're endangering Sherry. And me." He sighed. He didn't want to say it like that, but it was true enough. Neither he or Sherry even had shoes on.

Jake looked like he'd rather be over near Piers and Sherry, but he lingered by the bedroom door and watched Wesker impatiently. All of the blood all over him had to stay away from Sherry, too.

Ready to block Chris's hand with his arm, Wesker gestured to the tiled floor around the kitchen. 

“This is cleanable – the bed isn't.” 

“There's a shower,” Sherry added, pointing to the door back by the bedroom. “You can wash the blood off at least.”

There was the sound of the driver's seat door opening and closing – then the RV's engine rumbled as it started.

"The shower, then," Chris agreed with Sherry, pointing to the door. "Piers is okay right now — you need to get patched up before you do anything else." 

"C'mon, the engine's already running," Jake said impatiently. "Sherry, don't let Piers go rolling, okay?"

The little blond hugged Piers tightly and gave Jake a winning smile. 

“I've got him.”

Wesker leaned on the counter to scoop up the first aid kit. Yielding at last, he stumbled his way back to the shower – making a point to slam the door behind him.

Jake looked after him and frowned, then peeled his wet shirt off since it was bloody. 

"Something tells me he won't let me help with the first aid," he said drolly, tossing the shirt on the floor and wiping some of the mud trail aside with it with his foot. 

"He's come back from much worse." Chris sighed, looking around the room. "This is going to sound strange, Jake, but could you bring me my boots? They're in the bedroom. I can't walk through all that to get to them."

The redhead blinked and then shrugged, ducking into the bedroom.

The RV shook a little as it freed itself from the mud, and then they were on their way.

Piers sat his head up and he blinked. Pale gray eyes found Chris, and he smiled a little. 

“Where are your boots, captain?”

Sherry patted his back gently. 

“I got the yams out – they're really good.” She scooted a little plate of yams in front of Piers, keeping a hand on them so that they wouldn't bounce around.

The small soldier sat up and yawned. 

“Thanks.”

Chris took a step back to be sure the door was latched shut. He had to reach sideways to do it without stepping in anything. He was about to reply to Piers when Jake returned with the boots, handing them to him. 

"Hey, he's awake," the redhead commented, immediately heading over to check on Piers afterward. Chris sat in the chair by the front of the RV and put his boots on quietly. He was worried about Wesker, but he couldn't risk getting infected by all of the blood everywhere. This wasn't the Wesker in his dreams, either — this one wasn't used to working in any sort of team.

Piers looked up at Jake, fork in hand. 

“Yeah.” He finally noticed all of the blood on the floor and frowned – abandoning the yams to look at the three of them. “What happened? Who's hurt?”

Jake glanced back into the bedroom area and rubbed the back of his neck. 

"Wesker got kind of messed up. He's walkin' around, and I think I pulled all the metal pieces out, so don't worry about it."

Chris sat up, finally noticing the bloodied bag on the counter. He frowned. 

"What's that? Did Wesker bring that with him?"

“Yes.” Sherry got up and squinted at it. “I wonder what it is?”

Piers leaned to look at it too. 

“Wesker? I thought he couldn't be hurt.”

"Apparently running him over with a car does the trick," Jake told him, crossing his arms and turning to look at the bag with the others.

"It's got blood all over it," Chris told Sherry, sighing. "Only Jake or Wesker can touch it. If it's equipment to help Piers, we shouldn't risk damaging it." The bag didn't seem to be sliding around or in danger of tipping over, at least. The shape inside was rather square.

Piers stared up at Jake hazily. 

“Why didn't he dodge?”

Sherry shrugged and sat down next to him again. 

“I don't know. He's cleaning up now. Hopefully Chris is right and whatever's in that bag will help make a cure.”

“Okay,” The short man nodded. “But maybe Wesker should rest. That's a lot of blood – even for a super zombie guy.”

"I told him the same thing, more or less," Chris said, bracing a hand on the wall as the RV moved over a bumpy patch. "I'll try to talk to him again, though. You should probably still move to the bed."

Jake lifted up one of the little curtains over the windows, peeking outside at the landscape moving past them. He frowned. 

"Hey, I see headlights out there."

Chris quickly moved to look, too.

“Why do I have to move back to the bed?” Piers protested, climbing clumsily past Sherry – who just ended up moving to let him past. “I feel fine – let Wesker have the bed!”

Almost comically, Chris and Jake both stuck out their arms in case he fell over. With the RV moving, it wasn't too hard to imagine.

"I wanted you to have the bed because that's where the straps are," Chris told him, sighing. "Just in case, okay? Wesker's blood is dangerous, but he's in control of any virus in his system. And he'll refuse to lay down, anyway."

Jake checked on the headlights out the window again. They were close enough now to identify as the round ones on the Jeep. He glanced back to Piers. Much as he hated to strap Piers down, it was a pretty reasonable excuse for him being on the bed.

“Jake'll be with me and besides, I feel fine,” Piers continued. He pointed to the table. “I'll stay right here. I swear. I'm fine, sir.”

Sherry frowned sadly and looked between Chris and Jake. 

“I agree – he seems fine and if he doesn't want to be strapped down...” She shrugged.

Jake stepped a little closer to Piers, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"Strappin' him down when he's not delirious was never part of the agreement," he added. 

Chris held up a hand. 

"I wasn't even suggesting that. I didn't mean to strap in, just to SIT there instead of here." He sighed and rubbed his forehead, feeling tired suddenly. He'd gotten a few hours of sleep in, right? Maybe one hour? He wasn't sure. "It's okay to stay out here. Jake could get you back to the bed fast if he needed to."

Shoulders slumping in relief, Piers nodded. 

“Thank you.” He settled back in at the table, resting his arms on the table as before. “I feel like I've been lying down since Wesker found me.”

Sherry patted his arm and headed up front – probably to check on Claire and grab her boots.

Jake sat down beside him on the bench, patting his back. 

"The way HE tied you up is why I don't want to," he muttered. It was hard to imagine strapping Piers down and leaving him for days. It was best not to think about it. Moving forward, as Piers said...

Chris stepped into the bedroom area to see if there were any blankets or other cloth things to mop the floor with. Maybe an actual mop. Towels? He paused by the tiny shower and listened. Wesker was probably still in there.

As soon as Chris stopped – the small door opened to reveal a shirtless Wesker, looking none too pleased about the stitches that trailed from his right hip up over his ribcage. It looked like some kind of horror flick with how uneven and badly done they were – probably no thanks to the moving RV.

He froze and stared at Chris. At least he was clean now. The stitches were seeping but they had been coated in some kind of spray on bandage. 

Chris stared back, a bit startled. He'd expected to hear a rustle or something, not to have the door open and Wesker standing there staring at him. The brunette's gaze moved over the stitches quickly, then back up to Wesker's face.

He wanted to say something, but everything sounded stupid in his head. Finally, wordlessly, he turned and picked up a towel from the cabinet.

“Chris, don't.” Wesker stepped up clumsily behind him and took the towel away. “It is still infectious.”

"I'll be careful," Chris said quietly, turning and picking up the second towel in the cabinet. "I was just going to soak up what's on the floor. I've got to do something." He held the towel and looked at Wesker again for a long moment, rather sadly. "...The others thought you were invincible."

“Very amusing,” Wesker said flatly. He leaned a hand on the wall to stay up right and offered the towel back to Chris. “Please be careful. Don't use your hands.”

He didn't wait for Chris to reply before he started slowly back over to the kitchen area.

Chris sighed and carried the two towels back to the kitchen part of the RV as well, then up to the front door section. 

"I wasn't joking," he told Wesker quietly as he moved past.

Jake glanced at the two of them, but didn't have any context for that particular comment. He raised an eyebrow at Wesker's stitch work, but didn't say anything.

Returning from the front, Sherry held up both her hands and stepped between Wesker and the kitchen. 

“Whoa, whoa. No. Go lay down until you stop bleeding.” She gestured to the bedroom. “We have doses at the ready when we need them.” The little blond crossed her arms and sighed softly. “Otherwise you'll just get more blood all over the place.”

“The treatment isn't making any more progress, I need to-”

“Look.” Sherry nodded to Piers. “He's not fading in and out or trying to bite anyone anymore – that's progress.”

Wesker glanced over at Piers coldly, still a little irritated that Sherry kept trying to boss him around.

The short woman patted Wesker's arm very lightly and softened her voice. “Just for an hour or something.”

The tall blond stared at her hand like it was a snake.

Chris, meanwhile, was reminded of how Piers and Jake had gotten him to take a nap earlier. Maybe weariness would make Wesker more likely to agree, too. 

"She's right," he spoke up, glancing from the towel he'd just dropped onto the floor to soak up the blood and mud there. He stepped closer to Wesker and hugged the remaining towel to his chest, frowning. "I won't let you work in this condition."

“That isn't your decision,” the blond man stated, back stiffening. He scowled and took the towel from Chris – tossing it across the room onto the floor. Wesker then grabbed hold of the large brunette's arm and dragged him back toward the bedroom. “Fine. I'll rest – but if I'm confined to one room, YOU are staying in my sight.”

"You don't have to-" Chris cut himself off and shook his head, allowing himself to be pulled along. "Fine. But I'm not the one who needs supervision, here."

“As long as I'm alive you do,” Wesker said under his breath, letting Chris go when he reached the bedroom. He pushed the door mostly closed and perched gingerly on the end of the bed.

For about five seconds – then he stood up and pulled the door back open.

Chris stood beside the bed and watched this, sighing. This was exhausting...he felt like he'd just been trying to get the other Wesker to sleep, too. His husband. The thought of being married in this life was bizarre, especially to this Wesker.

Jake glanced when the door opened, raising an eyebrow. 

"That was fast," he told Wesker drolly.

With nothing more than a growl in his son's direction, Wesker snatched his tablet off of the table and returned to the bedroom – closing the door behind him.

He dropped the tablet onto the bed and sat down to take off his boots.

Chris stepped over and moved the gun holster and knife holster and assorted other items he'd left on one side of the bed. He placed them on the floor beside the bed and sat on the edge, taking off his boots as well. 

Piers and Jake and Sherry had looked so relaxed laying together on this bed. He wondered if Wesker would even want him to sit on it at the same time as him.

The blond man crawled and clawed his way up to lay on the bed, rolling on to his back stiffly. Wesker patted the other half of the bed to get Chris's attention and pointed a pale finger at him. “Don't wander off.”

Chris glanced back at him, then returned his attention to his boots...which he was taking far too long to untie and take off. 

He'd never actually been on a bed next to Wesker. Not that it meant much here...but it reminded him of the arrangement in the dream world, and the memories of curling up with Wesker there still felt like they'd only happened a day or two ago. 

He finally got both boots off and sat up...and just sat there. Wesker couldn't possibly expect him to 'wander off' in a moving vehicle. Was he expected to stay on the bed? He was pretty sure laying down wouldn't be protested, since everybody kept telling him to rest lately.

A set of cold fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“Please,” Wesker added quietly.

Chris glanced down at the hand on his wrist. Cold. A reminder that the dreams were just that — dreams. He placed a hand over Wesker's and sighed slowly. 

"I'll stay. I can't do anything useful out there, anyway."

Wesker let go of him and laid back down, wrapping an arm over his stomach. 

“You need your rest, too.”

"Rest is all I'm good for lately," the brunette sighed, frustrated. He pulled his legs up onto the bed, though, and somewhat gingerly settled down on his stomach on the mattress, resting his head sideways on the pillow to 'glance' Wesker's direction. He didn't like to lay on the back injury; it stung when he tried it earlier.

He moved an arm up next to his face and rested his hand on the pillow, too. Hopefully it would hide any redness on his face. This reminded him of the dreamscape again. Namely, of him and Wesker shirtless, the blond leaning over him to turn off the alarm clock. 

Wesker scooted closer, placing a hand on top of Chris's. He slid off his shades with his free hand and laid them on top of the tablet. 

“At least you're feeling well enough to complain about it.”

Chris sighed again, trying to relax into the pillow. It wasn't working; his back felt tense. 

"'Well' isn't the word I'd choose," he mumbled. He couldn't exactly complain, with the state that Wesker was in.

“But you're alive,” Wesker said softly, red eyes turning to Chris. Without the sunglasses, he truly looked exhausted. His eyes were dark and sunken. He blinked and closed them.

Chris turned his head a little more, drawing his hand — and Wesker's — closer to his face. He studied the bone white fingers atop his, the tiny lines where cuts had closed but never healed, and furrowed his brows unhappily. 

He'd spent his time in the BSAA telling people that you don't come back from being infected. That their loved ones were already dead, even if the BOWs still looked like them. At the time, he'd believed it. Yet here were Wesker and Piers. The virus didn't take away who they were.

"Maybe just alive isn't enough anymore,” he whispered.

The blond's red eyes opened again, focusing on Chris. Wesker blinked sleepily and frowned. He actually seemed like he was falling asleep.

Chris turned his hand over and gripped the blond's, squeezing it. "Alive's a start, though," he allowed. "Alive, and not fighting you." 

Wesker stared at their hands with a mild curiosity. 

“Yes. It is a good start – but you deserve more. A safe place with people you enjoy.” He glanced away slowly, sighing.

"Nowhere's really safe anymore," Chris murmured, still looking at Wesker's hand. He ran his thumb over the top of it slowly. He was so cold. Did Chris's hands feel warm to him? "And most of the people I care about are right here."

“Then I'll take care of them too,” Wesker mumbled, closing his eyes at Chris's touch. “Make you...a safe place. And kill anyone who tries to get in,” he added softly.

Chris smiled a tiny bit at that, rather sadly.

"If you're always outside guarding the door, I'm not staying in there."

Pulling himself back from unconsciousness, Wesker blinked tiredly. 

“Everyone else will be inside – why not?” He rolled on to his side, facing Chris. “There must be some dead millionaire with a bomb shelter around.”

"Everyone but you," the brunette pointed out, sighing. "'Alive' isn't enough. 'Safe' isn't enough... I want you there."

Wesker watched Chris tiredly. 

“I wasn't sure if you did or not...You didn't seem to like the idea earlier.” Undoubtedly, the blond was referring to earlier when he had told Chris that he was his world – and Chris had never replied. Wesker squeezed his hand gently, but didn't add to his reply.

"You caught me off-guard before," Chris admitted guiltily. "I-I didn't expect you to say something like that." It wasn't a bad thing, just so uncharacteristic. 

The blond frowned a little. 

“Neither did I – but it's said and done now. I meant every word.” Closing his eyes again, he settled his cheek against the pillow.

Chris sighed and closed his eyes, too, still holding the blond's hand. When he thought about it, he still didn't know what to say in response to what Wesker had said. His feelings were a tangled mess; there were so many years of memories and longing, respect and rivalry, distance and silence... 

He wondered if Wesker was still even the same person he'd thought he'd known in STARS. He wondered if he was the same Chris Redfield Wesker had liked back then. Maybe they had to start over entirely.


	29. Implications

“Dad!” Came a sobbing little voice from behind him. “Daad!” 

Chris blinked and looked around him. Was he asleep? He wasn't in the RV anymore...

Still crying loudly, the toddler version of Piers tugged at the back of his shirt.

Chris was laying on the bed in his and Wesker's room for once – instead of face-planted into the couch.

A bit disoriented still, the brunette sat up slowly enough not to knock Piers over. Turning toward the kid, he wrapped an arm around him and hugged him. 

"Piers, what's the matter? Are you hurt?" He sat back just enough to look the boy over, frowning worriedly. The room was dim, lit only by moonlight coming in through the window.

How long had it been since he was in the dreams last? What was going on? 

“Piers?” There was the rustle of covers and Wesker leaned around him to check on Piers as well. “Is he okay?”

Piers hugged around Chris tightly, pressing his cheek against his father's arm. 

“They were crying again!”

"The people in the dreams again?" Chris pulled the kid over onto his lap and wrapped the blanket around him, rubbing his back. "Piers, it was just a bad dream. They're not real, okay?"

The little boy sobbed, burrowing into the blanket. He spotted Wesker and jumped – suddenly silent.

Chris sighed and hugged him closer. "It was a bad dream with daddy in it, wasn't it?"

Piers nodded quickly and latched onto him again.

Wesker slumped, scooting up beside Chris. 

“Piers, you know that isn't me.” He leaned against the brunette's back, hesitant to touch Piers in case it scared him.

“Sherry's daddy was there too!”

“What?” Wesker scowled. “Bill?” He shook his head. “It was just a dream. There aren't really any crying people.” Carefully, he placed a hand on Piers' head to pet the boy's hair. “I promise.”

"Daddy wouldn't hurt people," Chris promised Piers as well, still rubbing his back. He wished he could say the same of Bill, but he honestly didn't trust the man near his kids. Not that Bill seemed threatening, but Chris still had no explanation for how he'd wound up inside the house that day.

“The d-daddy in my dream does.” Piers sniffled sadly. 

Wesker hugged Chris around the waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. 

“You could always sleep in here – that way, I can keep the bad me away.”

"Yeah, why don't you stay with us?" Chris said gently. "You can sleep in the middle. I'll even let you have my pillow, if you want." 

Piers nodded. He crawled around Chris and under the blankets, snuggling down onto the pillow. Wesker laid down again, tucking the blankets up around Piers' small shoulders. 

“There you go.”

There was a soft thump sound from down the hall outside of their room. Wesker glanced up at the door and then to Chris. 

“That's probably Jake. Would you go check on him?”

Chris kissed Piers' hair and sat up, slipping out from under the blankets. 

"Maybe he wants to sleep in here, too. I'll be right back," he murmured, starting for the door. 

“Dad, can you get my apache?” Piers called after him hurriedly.

Chris glanced back and smiled, giving the kid a thumbs up. He was pretty sure the toy helicopter was in Piers' bed; the little boy seemed to sleep with it nearby every night.

He carefully stepped out into the hallway, glancing around for any sign of Jake — and stepping carefully in his bare feet with the thought of metal toys on his mind. The hallway was very dark...save for a slice of light spilling out from under a door at the far end of the hallway. 

Wesker's office.

Chris froze, staring at it. He wondered again how long it had been since last time he was "here" in the dream world. He'd left the lights on in the office the first time, hadn't he? 

Sighing, he padded quietly over to the office door and pulled it open to flip the switch. Wesker would have turned the lights off, so they must have still been on from when he'd turned them on.

“AH!” A blond man at the desk spun to face him, gasping in surprise. It was Birkin again. He looked just as tired and sickly as before. “M-Mr. Redfi—Wesker. Hello again.” He backed around the room, putting the desk between them.

Chris took one look at him and kicked the door shut. 

"Bill," he said flatly, frowning. "Hello."

The slight blond man flinched at the door closing and held up both his hands. 

“Look, I k-know that this looks b-bad – but I-I...” He trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I just need a few files and I won't bother you g-guys again. I swear.”

Chris crossed his arms, his frown deepening. 

"How did you get in here? Al was with me, I know he didn't let you in."

Keeping half an eye on Chris, Birkin leaned back down to type on the computer. Quickly. 

“H-he keeps a spare key at work. I figured out where it was,” he finally admitted.

Chris moved just as quickly over to grab his arm and haul him away from the keyboard. 

"Well, you should've called him instead. I'm not letting you mess with his work without him here," he growled. Having Birkin here in the first place irked him — having the guy admit that he "borrowed" Al's spare key and invited himself into their home in the middle of the night? That just made him angry. 

“Whoa, calm down,” the slim blond said, placing a hand on Chris's arm. His shoulders slumped. “I tried c-calling him, he said he didn't have the time to help me. He wanted to spend time with his family – but I have a family too! And Umbrella…” He rubbed his forehead nervously, shaking his head. “They aren't the kind of employers you w-want to piss off.” Birkin looked back up at him. “Al's walking a very thin line as is – but that's his choice! I just want to do my job and keep my family safe.”

Chris opened his mouth to reply and then shut it again, still frowning. He kept a very firm grip on the blond man's arm. 

"What do you mean? Are you saying Umbrella's threatening your family?" He asked, more quietly. He just couldn't think of Umbrella as anything good. He couldn't.

Birkin stared him for a long moment. 

“Uh...they don't really threaten – they imply.” He grabbed hold of Chris's hand and tried in vain to unlatch the man's fingers. “Is t-there any chance you could not tell Al about this?”

Chris gave him a flat look and shook his head, his grip not loosening up one bit. 

"Do they 'imply' bad things if you leave, too?"

“Leave? No, no. I can't do t-that. They won't imply anymore...” The blond shook his head. “Al has no reason for keeping that jump drive from me – I helped with the experiments myself! But I need those results, and somehow he hacked my computer and erased them!” Birkin sighed sadly. “It isn't safe to keep it here in an unsecured facility. Anyone could break in!”

"Anyone?" Chris looked at him in half-alarm, half-anger. "Who the hell else is looking for this stuff? My family lives in this house — my KIDS. And if Al's keeping something from you, maybe he's got good reason to."

“We've been working together for a very long time – he would just tell me.” Birkin yanked on Chris's grip again. “If he found out that something's wrong, then I need to know about it!”

"Apparently you don't," Chris told him firmly, turning and starting toward the door with the blond man in tow. "What you NEED to do is get out of my house — and give me the key back."

Fighting against being dragged, Birkin shook his head. 

“Fine, but I can't let this go! There are people waiting for these results,and they really don't like waiting.” He lowered his voice when they went into the hallway.

Chris closed the door to Wesker's office carefully, then turned and grabbed the collar of the shorter man's shirt, pulling him close enough that their noses were nearly touching. 

"Listen, because I'm not gonna say this twice," he whispered. "If you need something for work, you can ask Al AT WORK. If he doesn't answer your phone calls, that is NOT my problem. Show up in my house again and I'm not gonna make it easy for you to walk back out. Are we clear?"

Birkin stared up at him, cringing. 

“Yes – but it's not just my family in danger. Remember that.” Scowling, he jerked his collar free and hurried away down the hall, giving Chris a quick glance over his shoulder as he retreated.

The brunette caught up a lot faster than expected, though, and grabbed his arm again. 

"The key," he demanded, scowling and holding out his other hand. 

Begrudgingly, Birkin dropped it into his hand. 

The brunette let go of him, but only to shove him toward the front door — and stand there with his arms crossed in the hall doorway and watch him leave.

The blond left surprisingly quietly – probably to avoid adding Wesker's wrath to his problems. Chris could see him scurry across the darkened lawn and hop into his car, speeding off down the street.

Only after locking the door after him could Chris breath a sigh of relief. Not that he was reassured; obviously Umbrella still had a darker side, even if it wasn't manufacturing BOWs in this dream world.

He looked down at the spare key and sighed again, more slowly. He could understand Bill's concerns about his family, but there was no way he could just not tell Wesker about this. For one thing, he didn't really have any reason why he was in possession of the spare key from Al's office at work.

A tiny thud from the hallway made him jump. Whirling around, Chris looked around the corner. Had Birkin left the damned window open to get back in behind his back?

A groggy-looking Jake was looking up at him uneasily, hugging a pillow to his chest.

"Dad? I heard voices out here, and Piers is gone."

“Chris? I heard the front door...” His husband came around the corner into the living room, Piers on his hip. Seeing that Jake was still there, he looked relieved.

The little redhead hurried over to hug his side, looking up at Piers. 

Chris turned to look at his family and closed his hand around the key. 

"Al, we've got to talk."

Piers looked sleepily down at Jake, waving a hand.

Wesker glanced between the kids and then back up to Chris. 

“Right now?”

Chris looked at him and smiled, though he couldn't keep from looking bothered. 

"In the morning." He stepped over and patted Jake's head, looking at him and then Piers. "It's too early to get up yet. Let's all go back to bed, okay?"

“I get to sleep in THEIR room,” Piers said triumphantly down to Jake, smiling tiredly. Wesker ruffled his hair.

“Jake can sleep with us too – I don't want him to have bad dreams either.”

Jake frowned, looking up at Chris. 

"Dad was talkin' to somebody."

Chris turned and scooped the kid up, hugging him. 

"There's nobody here but us." Now, he added silently. "C'mon, let's all go back to bed." He exchanged a glance with Al before turning and starting down the hallway toward the bedroom again.

With a final curious glance at the door, Wesker followed him. Piers cuddled up against him, closing his eyes again. At least he wasn't scared of Wesker anymore. Or so it seemed.

Chris stepped into the bedroom and placed Jake on the bed, busying himself with making a big show of fluffing the pillows. He slipped the spare key onto the bedside table silently, knowing full-well that Wesker would probably see it there in the morning. 

It didn't matter. They were going to have quite a discussion in the morning one way or another.  


* * *

  
Something on the counter beeped suddenly. It was a plain plastic watch. Sherry came cautiously over to it and picked it up, examining the screen. 

“Jake?” She turned around to check on him and Piers.

"Huh?" The redhead blinked and sat up from where he had been dozing. Seeing the watch, he frowned and glanced down at Piers. "What time is it?"

“11:40, according to this.” The blond woman sat the watch down on the table. “Why did Wesker have an alarm set? Do you think I should wake him up?” She looked toward the closed bedroom door, remembering how Wesker had slammed it behind him. Waking him up would probably just put him in a worse mood.

Jake held up a hand quickly. 

"No, no. The alarm's for Piers, it's time for his next shot." He sat up a bit and patted the little brunette's shoulder gently. "Hey, Piers. Gotta wake up now."

The small soldier had fallen asleep face down on the table, arms tucked around his head. When Jake shook him, he struggled to sit up, taking a long slow breath – like he hadn't been breathing before. He opened his eyes tiredly and tilted his head in their direction.

Sherry put a hand to her mouth, eyebrows scared. 

“Piers?”

Jake turned Piers' face up to look at him, frowning worriedly. 

"Hey. Sorry I had to wake you up. How you doing?"

Piers' eyes fell closed again and he leaned on Jake's hand to keep his head up.

Sherry went to get the shot from Wesker's lab setup.

Jake put his arm around Piers and leaned the shorter man against his chest, sighing. 

Sherry returned quickly with the syringe, alcohol wipe and band aid. She sat them on the table and took a deep breath. 

“Are you sure we should do this? It doesn't seem like it's working.”

"It's keeping him from getting worse." Jake placed one of Piers' arms onto the tabletop and carefully rolled up his sleeve, frowning. "If we don't do it, he'll go back to tryin' to bite people and being strapped down all the time, and I'm not gonna let that happen."

He took the alcohol wipe next and dabbed at Piers' arm with it. 

Cringing, Sherry sat down across the table from them. 

“I don't want that either, but...” She watched Piers as he laid there, half conscious. “I-I don't know. I don't trust Wesker.”

"I don't want to, but he's the only reason Piers isn't a zombie right now," Jake pointed out, picking up the syringe. He paused and glanced across the table at his girlfriend. "And nobody else is working on a cure, so we kinda have to trust him."

She looked back at him with sad blue eyes. 

“I'm just not convinced that he actually wants to cure anything.” Sherry leaned on the table to reach a hand out to Piers, patting his shoulder. “Frankly, I'm surprised he doesn't just grab Chris and run.”

Jake scowled at that, sitting the syringe down for a moment. 

"That's because Redfield cares about Piers — and Wesker cares what Redfield thinks. If he didn't wanna lose brownie points OR cure Piers, you'd think he'd just say he tried and failed."

“Let's just give him the shot,” Sherry said, noting that Jake sat the needle down. “Even if it just keeps him like this – it's better than him being a zombie.”

Piers stirred, looking hazily off into nowhere. He seemed to still be awake, but in a daze.

Jake looked at him for a long moment, troubled. It seemed like every time Piers received a treatment, something bad happened. Wesker was right in the next room over if he started bleeding again, and it wasn't like Jake didn't know CPR. It was just lousy that the person who had already been enduring so much had to get hit with more in order to treat him. If the maintenance treatments did this, who knew what the cure treatment would do?

"Yeah," he said finally, picking up Piers' hand and the syringe again. It only took a moment to slip the needle into his arm and inject the clear liquid in the syringe. Sitting it aside, he grabbed the alcohol wipe again and dabbed at the poke mark, holding his breath as he watched for any sign of a reaction.

Aside from blinking – Piers didn't seem to notice.

His lack of reaction seemed to worry Sherry even more. She shifted nervously, getting up to return the needle to the lab just to have something to do.

Jake smoothed the bandage onto Piers' arm and tilted his head, checking the brunette's expression. "Piers? Can you hear me?"

The little brunette stared through him hazily and then smiled. 

“Hey.”

Jake smiled back and rolled his sleeve back down. 

"Hey. How are you feeling?" He felt Piers' forehead. "Pretty warm, I bet." He definitely still had a fever.

“I feel really warm,” Piers slurred, propping his head up sharply on his hand. He yawned and closed his eyes. He mumbled something else, but it didn't sound like actual words.

Jake turned in the chair and moved Piers to let him lean against him again, hugging him. 

"That's good, you're fighting it off. Anything else?"

Piers shook his head slowly. 

“Nope.”

Sherry returned and sat down again, fidgeting with a glass of water. She scooted it over toward them, minding the occasional bumps in the road. 

“You should drink something.”

Jake picked up the glass, glancing down at Piers. 

"Yeah, you really should." He held the glass to Piers' lips. "Here, just sip." He was still so spacy. Was that the fever, or the shot? 

Lurching forward, Piers managed to spill the water all over them. He licked his lips and frowned.

Jake couldn't be annoyed when he saw that cute little frown. He hugged Piers and rubbed his back, glancing over at Sherry. 

"Too bad we don't have a straw, huh?"

“I wish we grabbed some,” Sherry mumbled, watching Piers sadly. She was still on edge waiting for something bad to happen.

Piers closed his eyes and leaned against Jake. 

“Wake me up...when the world stops...fuzzy.”

"I've got you," Jake assured, still rubbing his back. He glanced at Sherry again. 

"Okay, we've still got some options. We could...uh, roll something up to use as a straw. Or we could soak the corner of something cloth in water and have him suck on it." He actually blushed a tiny bit at saying that last part. If he'd thought hand-feeding Piers had been awkward...

Sherry relaxed the smallest bit, giggling. 

“Let me look around first. We might have juice boxes or something.” Still smirking, the blond woman got up to dig through their supplies.

Jake glanced down at Piers, his face still feeling warm. Of course Sherry picked up on him being awkward. That just made it a lot MORE awkward. 

"If we weren't shaking around so much, I could try spoon-feeding it to him." 

Because that was so much less awkward...

She returned with a water bottle and offered it to Jake. 

“Here. At least this has a smaller top.”

Piers frowned, sitting back up. His face was damp with sweat as he wiped a tired hand over his forehead.

“Hey guys?” Claire suddenly called from the front. “Could somebody come up here for a second?”

Sherry left to go check on her, and they felt the RV slow to a stop.

Jake glanced after her and frowned. He picked up one end of Piers' scarf and patted at his forehead with it to get some of the sweat off. 

"Okay, Piers. We stopped moving for a minute, so let's try this again."

He picked up the water bottle and unfastened the lid, holding it up to to Piers' lips carefully. "Oookay...just sip really slow, okay?"

“Ah,” Piers managed through clenched teeth. He clutched at his chest, gasping for air.

Jake abandoned the water bottle on the table, turning and cupping the sniper's face in his hands. 

"Hey, hey...look at me. It's just the shot." 

He hoped.

“Wesker?” Piers asked, looking back towards the bedroom with hope.

“I'm here,” Jake's father hissed, carefully closing the door behind him. He came over to the table and leaned on it, frowning. “Why are we stopped?”

Jake automatically hugged Piers protectively when Wesker got near them. 

"Not sure." He frowned. "Claire called for somebody to go up there and check."

Wesker examined Piers. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses for once – or a shirt. The nasty gash up his side from earlier had already begun to heal. He nodded to the smaller man. 

“He needs his next shot.”

"Just injected him with it," Jake informed him flatly. "He was fine 'til right afterward."

Wesker sat heavily down on the bench across from them and smoothed down his hair. He patted the table to get Piers' attention and spoke softly. 

“Try to stay calm. It will pass soon.”

Sherry came back from the front and paused to strap on a rifle and hip pouch – then went for the door.

Jake sat quietly, petting Piers' hair and listened carefully to be sure he was still breathing. He actually didn't say anything in reply to Wesker, but definitely looked at the stitches on the blond's torso with a frown. 

Wesker glanced up at the sound of the slamming RV door and scowled. 

“Sherry?” The blond man stood up – with a lot of effort – and went to the door to look outside.

Jake looked after him quickly. Had Sherry gone outside, or had he assumed as much? Maybe it was Claire. WHY were people going outside?

Piers watched him go in horror, trying to crawl over Jake to follow him – but Wesker returned to the table.

“They look like they're scouting something,” he commented dryly, feeling Piers' cheek now that he was within arms' reach.

Jake frowned at him, glancing past him toward the door. 

"Sherry shouldn't be out there." He didn't want to leave Piers alone with Wesker...but Piers didn't seem bothered by the man being right there. Sitting back a bit, he patted the brunette's back. "I need to go after Sherry. Can you stay here with Wesker for a few minutes?"

Piers nodded painfully, letting go of Jake to lean on the table.

“They are up ahead on the road,” Wesker told his son. “Be careful – I don't think they're alone.” He sounded almost a little surprised at his own words. Settling back on to the bench, he checked his side over carefully. He made it seem like he really couldn't care less about what was going on around him.

Jake patted Piers' back one more time before standing and hurrying to the door. He glanced over at Wesker as he stepped out the door. 

"Don't leave him alone." 

He hopped out the door into the mud and slammed it shut, heading up the road where Wesker had said the women had gone.

He could see several figures in the distance. The lights from the RV lit up the area around them well enough for him to be able to pick out Sherry, Claire and Leon in the group. 

“Get back in the RV – are you crazy?” Leon was muttering to Sherry, grabbing her arm.

“Piers is going through one of his things again, I just can't,” she protested sadly. “Now I know how Chris feels – completely useless!”

Claire patted her shoulder gently. 

“Sherry, think of the baby-”

“I AM thinking of the baby! It's not safe in there either! Nowhere's safe!” The blond snapped sadly, storming back off toward the RV. She made it about two steps before she spotted Jake approaching them. She didn't say anything but hugged her rifle to her chest.

Jake looked at her with a frown, but also with obvious concern. He glanced over her shoulder at Leon and Claire as he stepped up next to her. 

"What's the matter? Why did we stop?" He got the feeling that mentioning that she looked upset was a bad idea. He'd overheard why already — and could kind of relate. When Piers' symptoms came back, there wasn't much he could do, either.

Sherry immediately hugged him with one arm, dropping the rifle to hang on its shoulder strap.

Claire stood up and came over to them, glancing back at where the three of them had been crouched. 

“There's a lot of zombies up on the road. Hundreds maybe. I think we should wait until they clear out a bit.” 

Leon joined them slowly.

“I agree – but we can't just stay out here in the middle of the road.” He pointed out into the darkened cityscape beside the highway. “See that?”

Way off of the road, there was a half busted sign still glowing in the night. It read ' _AUTO S—P._ '

“Huh,” Claire murmured, squinting at it.

"I see it." Jake put his arms around Sherry, barely glancing at the sign before he looked down at her. "It's gotta be better than a hundred zombies blockin' the road, so let's get going."

It didn't feel like they needed to clear that with Redfield. If Leon agreed with the plan, Jake was pretty confident the brunette would agree as well — especially if the move put them on a safer route.  


* * *

  
It didn't take the small convoy long to loop back and head onto the nearest off ramp. By the time they reached the garage, it was well into the wee hours of the morning. The jeep managed to bust the locked chain gates open without too much noise, and pretty soon both vehicles had pulled inside.

The place was a bit of a mess. There were parts of cars strewn across every surface and tires piled in the corners. It certainly wasn't a mainstream shop.

Leon hopped out of the RV to lock up the gates again and Billy joined him.

Still upset, Sherry left the RV too as soon as it was parked.

Jake hadn't said much during the trip. Piers seemed to be drifting in and out of feverish consciousness still, and Wesker seemed like less of a threat to him with his new injuries to worry about. Maybe it felt okay to leave Piers with him right now because Redfield was right in the next room, even though he was still sleeping.

For whatever reason, Jake ended up climbing out of the RV almost immediately after Sherry, looking around at their new surroundings none too happily. He stepped past Rebecca, who was unpacking supplies from the Jeep, and frowned.

"Think Wesker met some friends of yours," he commented a bit dryly. "You two should talk."

The petite brunette woman hopped out of the Jeep and started toward the RV without comment, looking worried. Jake was pretty sure she wouldn't be any happier once she saw the state Wesker was in, but oh, well. Maybe she could do something to help him treat Piers.

“It makes sense – you just don't get it because you're blond,” Billy said dully, leaving Leon behind as they passed the redhead. 

Leon scowled after him and went to dig in a near by pile of metal.

Jake crossed his arms and leaned against the Jeep, watching the tattooed man walk away. He looked over at Leon next, wondering what they were talking about.

"Okay then," the redhead commented, stepping over near the metal pile, too. "If the dumb blond thing stands, then that means I've got no soul. Guess I could buy that, but Sherry or Wesker being stupid? No way."

Leon glanced up at him like he was a ghost. 

“Um. Hey.” He unburied a large piece of sheet metal and pressed on it to test it. “We're covering the fence as much as possible so zombies won't see inside. I guess.” Shrugging a shoulder, he started around the ratty building.

Jake glanced around to see if anybody else was nearby, following him. 

"I could give you a hand with that."

“Careful,” Leon said, turning back to look at him with a smirk. “You might sound helpful.”

The redhead looked at him dubiously. 

"Yeah, well I just need something to do. Piers is really sick again, and Sherry seems like she wants to be by herself for a bit."

“Yeah, I got that.” The blond man leaned down to push the bottom of the metal sheet against the fence. “Could you hold this for a minute?” He nodded to it. “I think Sherry's just like Chris at the moment. Used to helping out and getting the job done without a thought about their own well being.”

Jake promptly moved over and knelt down to hold the metal in place. 

"Pretty much, only she's got it worse — she can't take risks or she's risking the baby." He frowned. "I wouldn't let her risk getting infected even if there wasn't a baby."

Leon just chuckled as he circled back to the pile to grab a spool of wire. Returning to Jake's side, he carefully started threading it over the fence. 

“I don't think she'd risk that either. Like you said,” he nudged Jake's shoulder playfully, “she's not stupid.”

The redhead looked at him with a strange little frown on his face. 

"No." He looked down at the metal sheeting and fidgeted a little. "Hey, listen..."

“Hm?” Leon glanced down at him. The rain had stopped for the moment, so at least they weren't doing this in the pouring rain.

Seeing that the metal was held on about halfway, Jake shifted to hold it with one hand, rubbing at the back of his neck with the other. God this was going to be awkward. He glanced at Leon sidelong, then quickly back to their work. 

"I need some, uh, advice. Don't laugh, you're the only one I can talk to about it."

Twisting the end of the wire through the fence, Leon leaned on the metal casually and nodded. 

“Okay. No laughing. Got it.”

Jake took a deep breath. 

"Okay. So, this's really personal." He frowned at the metal, feeling his cheeks flush, and cleared his throat. "In fact, it's about sex."

Leon just quirked an eyebrow at him and nodded again. 

“Oookay.”

"No laughing, I said," Jake grumbled, scowling. If his face hadn't been red before, it must be by now. "You seem like you'd be experienced, but maybe I'm wrong." He shrugged, poking at the metal sheeting with a finger. "Even if I am, just about anybody knows more about this than me. I don't know what the hell I'm doin'."

Biting his lip to keep from grinning, Leon crossed his arms and cleared his throat. 

“Ask away.”

Relieved, Jake let out the breath he'd been holding and shrugged. 

"Okay, uh, let's start with the basics. I mean, I've been with plenty of women, but it's gotta be different when you're with a guy, and I don't want anybody to…uh, get hurt." Blushing furiously, he put his hand over his face. Awkward didn’t begin to describe this conversation. He regretted ever starting it. At least somebody gay wasn't sitting there judging him for being with another guy...he hoped.

The blond standing in front of him looked shocked. 

“Um,” Leon said, cheeks flushing a little. “Well. I don't really know how to tell you this, but – uh. I've never been with a guy.” He shifted on his feet. He knew in theory. As much as he didn't want to say it out loud – his college days had left him with quite a bit of know-how. But he wasn't willing to share that tidbit of information. Ever.

"Huh? S-so you're..." Jake sat back and stared, just as shocked. "A virgin? Are you kiddin' me?"

“A-a...” Leon sputtered. “Hell no.” He laughed but cut himself off, fixing Jake with as serious of a look as he could muster. “I'm straight. I've been with lots of women and yeah, I may have...fooled around with a guy, but we never really got to THAT part.” 

Despite his best efforts, Leon felt his stomach tighten. It was like explaining to his college girlfriend all over again. What did he touch? Where did he put it? Why did he password protect his computer?

He tried his best to stay calm and collected. Laughing at the poor kid wouldn't help.

To his surprise, Jake's shoulders slumped, and he looked less embarrassed, and more just plain bothered. 

"How's that work? If you were straight you wouldn't even wanna fool around with another guy," he said uneasily. "Would you? I-I always thought I was straight, but then there's this thing with Piers..."

“Well, there was something about THAT guy.” The blond shrugged, giving Jake a small smile. “I don't know. We just hit it off...” His eyebrows suddenly rose. “Wait. Piers?”

Jake blushed furiously, but frowned at the same time. 

"Whoa, wait, nobody told you about it? Claire knows, I figured she'd tell you. Well, shit."

“Claire knows and she's okay with that? What about Sherry? What about the baby?” Leon's expression was a mixture of total shock and anger. What in the world was going on? Had everyone lost their minds?

Jake let go of the sheet metal at last, turning to face him. He held up both hands, looking the blond in the eye. 

"Easy. Sherry's perfectly fine with this. She knows, I’m still with her too, and she's FINE with it. Trust me."

Leon rubbed his temples. It was the middle of the night and he hadn’t slept – he probably wasn't in his best state of mind. Thinking back over how Piers and Jake had been acting, it wasn't that unbelievable. He slowly turned back to Jake and nodded. 

“I believe you, it's just a little unexpected. Now at least the sex questions make more sense.” 

Jake sighed and stood, looking down at the sheet metal unhappily. 

"I'm surprised, too. I've never even thought about another guy like this 'til now." 

He glanced at Leon and blushed faintly again, quickly looking back down with a small frown. "Sorry, I thought I had the right guy to talk to. Now I don't know who I'm gonna ask." 

“I'm sorry I'm not much help,” Leon said sheepishly, running a hand through his damp hair. Running over the speech he had planned when his 'never-to-be' child asked him the same question, he cleared his throat. “Just take it slow and talk to him,” he said, trying to be helpful. “You don't have to rush up to that unless you guys are ready.”

Jake crossed his arms — more like wrapped them around himself. He'd been a lot more comfortable when he thought Leon was mad at him, because that wasn't so damned personal. 

"Sure, okay. He's really sick, it's not like we're gonna do anything 'til he gets better. If he does." The possibility that Piers would not get better made him feel sick to his stomach, but he wasn't sure Wesker could cure him. Sherry's worries from before came to mind.

“Piers seems tough for such a little guy. And he seems like he's found a reason to live,” Leon added with a smile, picking up the wire spool he had dropped in surprise earlier. “Alright, let's get this done.”

Jake knelt back down to hold the metal again, nodding. He was completely silent for the moment, a little sad and trying not to show it. What if Piers didn't get better? What if the best thing they could have together was what they had now — with Piers in pain and him and Sherry unable to do anything about it?

Sherry. He needed to find her and make sure she was okay. He told himself he would do so, but after he was done helping Leon. The blond had handled this awkward conversation much better than he could have. It was the least that Jake could do.


	30. Projects

Laying on his face, Chris could hear the sound of someone breathing. It had to be Wesker...but, no, there were two. 

As he rolled over, bright white sheets wrapped around him. So he wasn't awake yet.

Beside him, the little toddler versions of Jake and Piers were curled up in the blankets and fast asleep. Jake had something managed to glom onto Piers' side AND half-burrow under the pillow simultaneously. 

And there was no Wesker. 

Sitting up carefully to avoid disturbing the kids, Chris quickly checked the bedstand to see if the key was still on it.

Sure enough, it was missing. 

The bedroom door was also ajar – allowing the roasty rich scent of coffee to drift in seductively. Like some kind of trap.

Coffee. Chris really missed coffee. Maybe if he could find some in the real world again, he wouldn't feel so exhausted all the time.

For the moment, though, he was here — and his mind was replaying the incident with Bill last night, as well as his comment to Al that they had to talk in the morning. Apparently it was morning already. 

He climbed slowly out of the bed, closing the bedroom door behind him as he stepped into the hallway. He had a feeling this conversation could get noisy.

Wesker was standing in the kitchen in a pair of gray pajama pants, cooking breakfast. His hair was damp and a towel was laid across his shoulders. He scooped a ladle of batter from a bowl and gently drizzled it around in the waffle maker – his pale blue eyes lost in thought. The blond man didn't seem to notice Chris coming into the room, and continued his work.

Chris stood there in the doorway for a moment and studied him, noting the differences between this Wesker and the real one he'd seen all stitched up not long ago. He found he didn't mind the marks and scars. This Wesker seemed too perfect to be real. At least Chris could touch him, though. He stepped across the room as quietly as he could, then wrapped both arms around the blond's waist, hugging him from behind. 

"Good morning," he murmured, deciding that sounding a little sleepy was best. He knew that Wesker had found the key, but he honestly didn't want to talk about that right now. Did it matter if he fixed all of this Umbrella mess in a dream? It wasn't real.

Al stiffened, startled by his touch. 

“Chris.” He dropped the ladle on the counter and closed the waffle maker – stream puffing out the sides. Rotating in Chris's arms, he wrapped an arm over the brunette's shoulders and kissed him.

Not just a light little greeting kiss, but a lengthy one — or maybe that was Chris not wanting to end it for a beat too long. When he reluctantly pulled away at last, he still kept an arm around Wesker's waist, the other moving up to run fingers through his damp blond hair.

He was still Wesker, just a different one. The crystal blue eyes were distracting — they were exactly the color of Jake's. 

“Good morning,” the blond in his arms said at last. “I thought I'd mix it up and make waffles,” he said softly, staring at Chris. Strangely, he seemed calm. Almost a little sleepy himself. He kissed Chris again briefly before slipping out of his arms to head to the coffee pot. “Are the kids still asleep?”

Chris leaned on the counter, glancing down at the waffle maker. 

"Yeah, they're still asleep." He wondered if Wesker was asleep in the real world right now. Maybe he was having his own odd dreams, too. When it came down to it, Chris just didn't want to believe that it only happened to him, because that made him sound crazy.

“Good,” Wesker said calmly, returning to offer Chris a cup of coffee.

Cautiously, the brunette accepted it, looking at him. 

"...You found the key. I saw it's gone."

The blond's mouth twisted into a scowl and he hopped lightly up onto the counter beside the waffle maker – flicking it to off. After a long pause, he glared back up at Chris.

“Do you trust me at all? I told you everything was fine – that work was fine – and somehow you end up with my spare key. The same key that I keep HIDDEN in my WORK office.” He leaned back against the cabinets, still scowling down his nose at Chris. “Why?”

Chris stood there holding the coffee mug and blinked. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, frowning. Well, that wasn't exactly the reaction he'd expected. Worse yet, he wasn't sure how to prove that Bill had been there the night before, seeing as the man had only seen him.

"I trust you," he said finally, placing the mug aside on the counter. He turned back to Wesker and frowned, crossing his arms. "But I don't think work's fine."

“But if I say it is, you should at least trust me!” Wesker smacked his hand down on the counter beside him, revealing the key. “What, did you go check yourself?” He leaned forward to look him in the eye. “First stealing the flash drive – and now this.”

Chris stared back, his frown deepening. 

"I haven't been anywhere near your job — I don't even want it near us when you work on things at home. And why the hell would I need a spare key to my own house?"

“That's what I want to know!” Wesker growled, scooting back on the counter. “Why go to work in the first place? What are you looking for?” He sighed in frustration. “You know absolutely nothing about work – what are you so afraid of? You've been this way for almost a week now! Paranoid!” Sitting forward again, he looked at Chris sadly. 

A week? So that's how long he'd been "living" the dream world, Chris thought. A week. To Wesker he probably seemed to be behaving very strangely. The thought that this dream world went on while he wasn't here was just bizarre. How could his mind keep this up, anyway? No wonder he was always tired while awake.

"I'm not paranoid," he said flatly, sighing. "You want to know why your spare key is here? Because when I went to check on Jake last night, BILL was here. In the house. In your office. I always wondered how he got in last time, and it turns out he found your key."

“I-I can think of a reason why you might need a second key,” The blond said unhappily, all anger dropping away. He sat his head in his hands and sank his fingers into his hair. “Please. I don't want to know – let's not talk about this anymore. You say it was Bill, fine. Bill was here.” Sitting up, he flicked the waffle maker back on. 

Chris blinked and stepped closed, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"Tell me. What do you think my reason is?"

Al pushed his hand away. 

“If you wanted someone else to let themselves in – when I'm not here.” Fishing the hot waffles out with his fingers, he cringed.

Chris took his hand and stepped over to hold it under the faucet, turning on the cold tap. 

"How can you say that? Is that really what you think's going on, here?" He couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice. It was hard to detach and remember that it was just a dream — that the husband and kids he'd grown attached to didn't really exist.

“Like you said – why else would you need a spare?” His husband said coldly, letting Chris treat his hand. “If that's what you really want, fine. Just don't tell me it's that little blond you keep toting around.” His voice sounded strained too. Chris had the vague impression that they may have had this conversation before. 

"Are you talking about Leon?" Chris asked dubiously. Deciding not to comment on that, he shook his head, turning off the faucet and holding his husband's hand with both of his. He looked down at their matching rings and bit his lip.

"I love you. You and the kids. This is like a..." He smiled somewhat sadly. "A-a dream, compared to where I was before. I wouldn't ruin that." 

Wesker scooted forward on the counter to look down at Chris sadly, shaking his head. 

“Every time that I think you've done something – you just do that.” He gestured to the brunette with his free hand. “And I forgive you. No matter what it is.” Placing his hand on Chris's, he frowned. “I want to believe you. I really do. Please. Please just tell the truth. Why did you have the key?”

"Bill had it," Chris said glumly. He had a feeling Wesker had decided that story was fake already, but he didn't want to make something up — that WAS what had happened. "I made him give it back and pretty much kicked him out. That's why you heard the front door slam."

Wesker nodded slowly. 

“Jake said that you were talking to someone,” he added uncertainly. “But you told him that no one was there – which I found very suspicious.”

"I didn't want to scare him," Chris admitted, frowning. "This scared ME, Al. Bill said something about Umbrella threatening his family if he didn't get results quick — and ours. Is that true?"

He looked at the blond worriedly. 

Pulling him closer, Wesker looked disturbed. 

“He was probably just hoping that you'd give him that thumb drive.” He ran a hand through Chris's hair lightly and sighed. “No...You were honest, I need to be as well.” The blond man slid off of the counter. “Those results may hold the key to the cure to cancer. It's a regenerative cell that we've been able to duplicate – but with questionable techniques.” He frowned. “I wanted to find out if there was another way to produce them before handing the project over. Bill didn't.”

Cancer? Chris looked at him for a long moment, processing that information. The cure to cancer...yeah, he could see why one researcher would be desperate to get that first. But Bill...

"He was really desperate," he told Wesker quietly. "He was trying to get into your computer and get at your files, said there were people waiting that you didn't wanna piss off." 

Just thinking about the break-in made him mad, and he scowled. "And he called this an 'unsecured facility' and seemed to think others would break in to try and get the info, too."

“No one's breaking in anywhere – he just wanted to scare you,” Wesker mumbled. He moved closer and slipped his arms around Chris tightly. “Look. I'll go in to work and get it all sorted out. I was taking too long anyway. Whatever method we use, it'll be worth it.” Looking down at him, the blond seemed even more gloomy. “I love you.”

Chris looked at him sadly and mustered a small smile. 

"I love you, too. And I know you think I don't understand your job at all, but I know enough to wish you didn't work there." He hugged the blond in return and rested his chin on Wesker's shoulder. "You're gone too much and you're always tired...I wish there was another way."

“After this project, I don't expect money will ever be an issue. Not that it really is now...but you're right. I want to be home. See you. See the kids.” Holding Chris tightly, he finally smiled. “Maybe even cook lunch for once.”

"Or eat with us without having to cook first," Chris suggested, content to stand there and hug the blond for the moment. "We could order something in." 

“Oho.” Wesker smiled slyly, sitting back to look at Chris. “And forget what you said on our first night home?” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What was it? Oh yes – that you'd never, ever-” The blond kissed his husband softly. “-eat take out again. I think that includes pizza.”

Chris looked at him wistfully. 

"I hope you don't think I take that for granted, either — or you." The truth was, he had being alone to compare it against a lot more vividly than his husband knew. The real Wesker was used to being alone, too. Even when they were together, there was a big wall between them.

The handsome blond suddenly looked serious again and hugged him. 

“I know that.”  


* * *

  
Rebecca stepped up into the RV's side door, glancing around for Wesker uneasily. Jake seemed to think he'd met her "friends" the drug makers...

"Captain Wesker? Jake said I should talk to you..." She trailed off, startled by the blond man's lack of shirt — and jagged stitches.

Having retrieved his tablet, Wesker sat quietly poking at it at the dinette. Piers was still dozing, and was wrapped tightly in a large plush pale purple blanket. The blond standing guard over him glanced up from his work at Rebecca.

“Shh.”

The brunette stepped inside and closed the door behind her, then moved over to stand beside his little lab.

"What in the world happened to you?" She eyed the messy stitches as she spoke, frowning. Wow, somebody's first aid left much to be desired. They looked like they were already closing up. Had he had these stitches underneath his jacket the whole time?

Wesker glanced down at them and frowned. 

“I didn't have a proper needle.” He got up from the table, pausing to sit his tablet down and adjust Piers' blanket over his shoulders. As soon as he was satisfied that the small man was warm and secured, he came over to Rebecca. “What's this about Jake?”

She turned her green eyes to his face, still not exactly reassured. So HE'D done the stitches. Eep.

"He said he thought you had a run-in with those drug runners I took the supplies from," she admitted, hugging herself. "Did THEY do that?"

“With a truck. Then they assumed that I was dead – which will be their last mistake,” Wesker said sourly, picking through his lab equipment.

Rebecca put a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. 

"Oh my god. If they ever catch me, I don't even wanna think about what they'll do." She glanced at Piers and drew a deep breath. Right. She wasn't traveling alone anymore. "Was the incubator where I left it? Did you even get to it before this?" She turned back to Wesker again, looking at the stitches.

“After, so it isn't damaged.” He gestured to the small incubator sitting half buried at the far end of the counter top. “I've already made progress. Thank you.”

Rebecca stepped over and looked at the little square device thoughtfully. 

"I'm glad. I'm not sure how helpful I can be with the kind of things you're working on, but I'm a chemist." She looked over at him and shrugged.

Wesker thought it over for a long moment and then nodded. 

“And a medic.” His blood red eyes glanced down at his stomach again. “The stitches seem to disturb everyone.” He hesitated and squared his shoulders. “Can I convince you do redo them?”

"I was trying really hard not to comment," Rebecca admitted sheepishly. She went to retrieve the medical pack she'd stowed in one of the RV's cabinets earlier. "I am a medic, so if I can help with Piers or with Chris's injuries, you just let me know."

She brought the pack to the chair by the door and opened it, pulling out various surgical tools, gauze, needle and thread, and a pair of white latex gloves. 

Wesker pulled a folding chair over and sat down. If Rebecca didn't know better, she'd say he was tired. He rested his arm on his knee and sighed. 

“If you get a chance, Chris's back might need a once-over. I haven't had a moment to change his bandages.”

"We're gonna stay put for at least the rest of the night," the petite woman pointed out, slipping on her gloves and threading the needle in a nonchalant way. She sat the needle aside and turned to examine the current stitches critically. "...I'm going to have to cut these loose before I can sew it up right. How long ago did you get the injury? I don't want to make you bleed everywhere."

“It should be safe now – it's healing,” the blond mumbled, staring back at Piers. “The men you took those supplies from...do you think they'll come after you?” He looked at her critically. “Are the supplies really that important?”

"They're hard to find," Rebecca said, turning and picking out a little silver pair of scissors from her pack. She turned back to him and began to carefully snip the stitches one by one. 

"And they need things like that incubator to make their drugs. I'm pretty sure they had no idea how valuable the reagents I took were in the first place..."

“Then stopping here for any length of time is not wise,” Wesker said. He frowned and watched Rebecca as she worked. 

Feeling the stare on her, she glanced up at him briefly, then turned to put the scissors away and pat gauze on any small bleeding spots where the old thread had been. 

"I agree."

She sat the gauze aside, too, and picked up the needle and thread with a small frown. "...Maybe somebody else's perspective is what my project needs."

Wesker blinked at her, tilting his head ever so slightly. 

“You have a project?”

"Nothing as important as curing the C-virus," Rebecca assured him, starting to stitch up the wound. It was a pretty enormous injury, going up his side. He didn't look like he'd just been hit by a car, he looked like somebody had stabbed him with something.

“If you're still carrying on with your work while on the run, it must be worthwhile.” Wesker said. He continued to watch her, but with much more interest now. 

Rebecca glanced at him again, then set her gaze intently on the stitches with a tiny little frown. 

"It is. Well, I think that it is. It could make running less necessary," she admitted. 

For some reason, she felt shy to describe the actual project. Wesker was a brilliant scientist. Her little mixtures would probably seem stupid to him. Of course, maybe he'd see a way to improve them...

“Eventually, the survivors will discover that there is nowhere left to run,” the blond man said quietly, smoothing his hair with a slow hand. “Like rats on a boat.”

Rebecca sat up, looking at him grimly. 

"That's why I'm trying to invent a way to make the zombies run instead. My project is, um. It's a kind of spray that makes it hard for them to tell you're there. The mix I've got right now wears off in about ten minutes, though, and it won't work twice on the same zombies."

Eyebrows perking, Wesker leaned forward in his chair to look at her more closely. 

“...Interesting. That does sound very useful. You are welcome to use my tablet if you need to, just don't open any other files.”

Rebecca blinked and sat up. 

"Really?" She hadn't expected that at all. She'd just been hoping to take a look at the research that Wesker had been doing to try and cure Piers. "I was kind of hoping that YOU could take a look at my mixtures, see if there's any way to improve it that I missed?" She looked at the blond hopefully.

Wesker nodded. 

“Of course.” He pointed to his tablet laying on the dinette table next to Piers. “Can you put it on the tablet?”

The small man sleeping at the table stirred, rolling his head to the other side in his sleep. His cheeks looked very flushed.

Rebecca glanced at Piers, then turned back to her work on the stitches. 

"In a moment. I'm almost done with this." She again felt a little awkward about letting Wesker see her work, like he might judge it. It didn't exactly seem unlikely.

“Is it possible to wrap the injuries? I don't want to get blood on my shirt,” Wesker said stiffly. 

His...clothes? He was worried about his clothes at a time like this? It was far more likely he didn't want to get blood on Chris.

"O-of course, I've got some gauze," Rebecca said quickly, tying off the stitches and turning to grip the scissors to trim the thread.

She took out the roll of gauze next, again dabbing at any blood on the stitches carefully before wrapping them.

Her patient waited calmly for her to finish her work. He watched her as she wrapped his chest and finally spoke quietly. 

“You haven't changed at all. You look like you walked out of my memories.”

The brunette glanced up at him as she tied off the gauze, too, blinking.

"You look practically the same, too. It's a little disorienting, to be honest. I feel like I'm back in STARS," she said sheepishly. "I guess I should stop calling you 'Captain'."

Shockingly, Wesker smiled. In a not-quite-as-evil-as-before way. 

“And I should stop saying 'Officer Chambers.'” His smile faded quickly, and he slipped back into his even expression – red eyes still scanning over the short woman in front of him. “It brings back memories. Memories I haven't seen in a long time.”

He had vaguely admitted to Chris how bad his memory had been after his revival, but it actually took a lot of focus to summon anything more than vague images. But once he recalled something – it stayed. Luckily.

“...I'm glad you were wearing that vest.” He said softly, glancing at Piers to make sure he was still asleep.

Rebecca sat back and looked at him evenly. 

"Me, too. I always figured you aimed for my chest because you knew it was a bulletproof vest," she said, after a long moment. "I'm not...exactly clear on how we got from there to here, but here seems better."

Wesker's eyebrows perked and he gave her an almost teasing look. 

“Here? The apocalypse?”

Piers moved again, sitting his head up from his arms to look around blearily. 

“Dad?”

Rebecca glanced over. Before she had a chance to say anything to Piers or Wesker, though, Chris stepped sleepily out to the doorway.

"Piers? Everything okay?" 

The younger soldier sat up and looked at Chris curiously – like he was deciding who he actually was. He blinked and then trailed his eyes over to Wesker and Rebecca. More than anything, he just looked confused.

Wesker got up from his chair at seeing Chris.

Rebecca gathered up her medical supplies and very carefully wrapped the old stitching thread up to keep the blood on it from contacting anything else. She peeled off her gloves and glanced over at Chris. He looked sleepy, but a lot less exhausted, at least. This was the first time she could recall him waking up on his own since she joined the group.

Chris glanced at Wesker when he moved, blinking and running his fingers through his hair. He seemed almost a little bit awkward to see the blond.

"Why aren't we moving?" He asked, frowning a tiny bit.

“The highway was too dense with the undead. We're parked in an old service station on the outskirts of town,” Wesker explained, sliding his gray sweater back on. Now...where had his shades gone? He looked around as calmly as he could muster. Between the stitches and the lack of sunglasses, it was a miracle that Chris had gotten any sleep. Whenever he was around the large brunette without his eyes covered, Chris acted like he wanted to avoid him. Realizing that he had just been standing there looking around like a fool, Wesker cleared his throat. “The others are securing the perimeter.”

Chris looked at him and nodded slowly, no doubt wondering why he was glancing around. 

"Piers looks feverish again," he noted, glancing at the brunette. "...What happened to Jake?" It was odd to see Piers without Jake right there, lately.

Rebecca poked around in her medical bag. She had been willing to wait to check on Chris's back, but since he was awake and moving already...

“He's outside with the others. Piers is in my care,” Wesker assured him, returning to sit at the table where he had been before. “Rebecca was just redressing my injury.”

Again, Chris nodded. 

"Okay," he said quietly. 

Rebecca waved him over. 

"Chris, come sit down over here. I need to take a look at your back."

The brunette stepped over and sat down without protest. He kept looking at Wesker, but didn't say anything more.

The blond tapped his fingers lightly on the table, watching Chris out of the corner of his eye. He really needed to find those sunglasses...

Piers was also looking at Chris, still vaguely confused at what his eyes were showing him now that he was awake.

"Everybody's outside?" Chris frowned, like that had just sunk in. "Sherry shouldn't be overworking herself right now. In fact, once we're secure, everybody should get some sleep."

Rebecca got the impression he felt a little guilty that he had been napping while all of this had been going on.

“Agreed,” Wesker said shortly, getting back up from the table. “But we need to have someone stand watch, of course. I will.” He headed for the door, nodding to Chris. “You stay here with Piers.”

The brunette reached to stop him as he stepped past, but couldn't quite reach his arm. He looked up at Wesker unhappily.

"Wait. You should sleep, too. If you're up to working, you should work on the cure for Piers — it's important."

“It takes time,” Wesker stated, crossing his arms. He didn't like how Chris was looking at him – no. It was nothing like earlier when they were falling asleep side by side. “I can only do so much without waiting for more results.”

Piers suddenly got up from the table, clumsily removing the blanket from his shoulders and coming over to Wesker's side. The tall blond put out a hand to catch him if he toppled over, scowling. But the little brunette didn't say anything, he just stood there at the ready.

Chris and Rebecca both looked at Piers simultaneously. 

"You should rest, then," Chris told Wesker softly, glancing from Piers to him. "Everybody's letting me sleep, somebody else needs to sleep sometime." It really seemed like Piers wanted to be wherever Wesker was going...which was odd.

“I slept for a couple hours earlier – I'll be fine,” the scientist said, gently pushing Piers back toward the table. “Go sit down,” He ordered.

Piers moved toward the table, still looking confused. He turned to stare at Chris next.

Wesker pointed after him and sighed. “He should be laying down.”

"You're the only one who isn't at risk of infection if he gets delirious and bites somebody," Rebecca reminded him, poking Chris's shoulder. "Um, I need you to take your shirt off. The bandages are all on your back, right?

Chris sighed and started to pull his shirt off. 

"Yeah."

With a frustrated groan, Wesker swept Piers up into his arms and sat him back at the dinette. He wrapped the blanket back around his charge and sat down too – blocking Piers from getting up again. The plush purple blanket was wrapped carefully to capture Piers' arms inside. He looked like he was in a cocoon. 

Apparently, his strong desire to leave had overridden his brain. Of course he couldn't leave Chris guarding Piers.

Rebecca set about cleaning and redressing Chris's wounds. Where in the world had the nasty knife wound on his back come from? He seemed a little spacy, but she got the impression that this was more his normal self, and the way he'd been acting was the odd state of mind.

"We should probably stop to camp each night," Chris mused aloud, more to himself than anybody else. "It's safer to move in the daytime, and then people have time to sleep."

“It wouldn't be difficult to rig up a watch nest on the top of the RV,” Wesker said slowly. He avoided looking at Chris. Maybe the service station sold sunglasses too? “Then we could have someone on watch at all times while the others sleep.”

Foolish. Now he was just repeating himself. He rubbed his temple with a hand and sighed. Sleep did sound enticing...

"We're in an auto shop, right? I'll see what we can rig up in the morning," Chris said. Rebecca smoothed the last of the bandages onto his back and nodded, turning to put the supplies away.

"I had better go see what Billy's up to now," she murmured. "If you need to sleep, Captain Wesker, I'll see if Jake can come back to watch Piers, too." 

Wesker nodded to her. 

“Tell everyone to check in – this place isn't that big.” He frowned and sat up. “It shouldn't have to be said, but they need to keep an eye out for lights. Especially moving ones.”

The medic looked at him grimly and nodded. 

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I'll tell them." She turned and headed out the door quickly. Somebody ought to have been looking out for lights all along...  


* * *

  
The perimeter was secure. Jake had stuck around until the last of the sheet metal was in place. Now that he wasn't helping Leon move sheet metal or become horribly embarrassed, the redhead was walking the edges of the shop building, trying to figure out where Sherry had gone. 

He found a door in one corner leading to a smaller front store area of the shop. The door was ajar; she must have gone through there. 

He slipped through and looked around the room, frowning. 

"Sherry?"

“Jake!” The blond called to him from somewhere. It sounded like she was...above him?

As he looked around, the little blond hung her head down out of the ceiling, hands braced on a ladder below her. She didn't look very happy as she spoke.

“I found something.”

Jake looked up at her quickly, startled. He held up both hands, like she might topple down the hatch and need to be caught. 

"Okaaay, just move back and I'll climb up there."

He stepped up to the ladder and started up the rungs.

She scooted back out of sight.

Once he got to the top, he saw that it was more or less just an attic – but someone had clearly been living there. The whole room was lit up by a small battery powered lantern, which was bright enough that he could see everything clearly.

At the far end of the room there was a cut out square in the wall with a handle on it — most likely a lookout hole. There were boxes of canned goods and several gallons of water, as well as random tools like pocket knives and penlights still in their store packaging.

Jake looked at the little camp and frowned, shaking his head. 

"Somebody's still here if the batteries aren't dead." He climbed a step higher and held out an arm to Sherry, sighing. "C'mon, it's not safe to wander around alone if that's true."

She got up, dusted her knees and went to the middle of the room – gesturing off to one side. 

“No, he's here.”

Jake froze, then slowly turned to look where she was pointing.

There was a dead man there, shot several times through the chest. Strips of cloth had been wrapped poorly over him. He looked very scruffy and his eyes were closed. Either Sherry had closed them or he had died in his sleep. The blond stood over him, arms crossed thoughtfully. 

“Zombies don't use guns, but it looks like he came back here from wherever he got shot. I hope no one knew he lived here.” She looked around sadly. “It isn't ransacked – so I'm guessing no.”

Jake climbed out of the ladder hatch and into the small room, coming over to peek under the bandages at the wounds. He frowned and sat them down again, looking at the guy's face. 

"Hasn't been dead very long," he concluded. "They could be still lookin' for him." He looked around the room, and then back to the body, crossing his arms. "...We should tell Redfield and Leon about this."

“I...I kind of feel like a jerk for thinking this, but...” Sherry knelt over the dead man and reached past him, lifting up a large black gun. It was a sniper rifle – some foreign brand – with a scope and stand. She sat back and laid it on her lap. “He doesn't need it,” Sherry added softly, looking at Jake hopefully. 

He knelt down to get a better look at the gun, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

"He doesn't need any of this stuff anymore," he said matter-of-factly. "Actually, I think he'd want you to have that, that way if the bastards who shot him find out where he went, they won't get to loot his stuff."

Spite beyond the grave...that sounded like what Jake would want if HE was ever left dead with a stash of stuff.

Sherry smiled sadly and kissed him. 

“I knew I loved you for a reason.” She got up, checking that the rifle's safety was on before slinging it over her back with the other. “Ooh. It's heavy.” She frowned and took it back off. Staring at it for a moment, she smiled. “I bet Piers would love this.”

Jake stood and picked up the small blanket the guy had apparently been sleeping on in a corner before his untimely demise. He draped the blanket carefully over the body, covering his head, and patted him. 

"Rest in peace, pal. Let's hope you're the only one around here."

That reminded him of Piers and the dead soldier in the mall before. He paused and frowned. This guy could be a scumbag, for all they knew, but it was better not to assume the worst of a dead man.

Sherry bent and patted the blanket lightly before heading for the ladder. 

“Here,” She offered Jake her original rifle, placing the sniping one on her back again.

The redhead took the rifle with a small smirk. 

"Out with the old, huh?" He picked up the electric lamp and headed for the ladder as well, pausing nearby as Sherry started to climb down. 

She got to the bottom safely and smiled up at him. 

“I want to give it to Piers when he gets better.” 

Jake picked up the light and climbed quickly down after her, hopping off the ladder halfway to the floor. 

"Careful, he might kiss you," he warned, smirking and holding up the lamp to light their way. 

Never in a million years had he thought that he would be okay with sharing Sherry with anybody, but he found that the thought of Piers kissing her didn't seem wrong. Maybe because kissing was about all they would ever do, if that.

“Then maybe you should give it to him,” she said, winking at him cheekily.

Jake actually blushed faintly at that, clearing his throat. Kissing Piers wasn't such a shocking idea anymore — it was just that it reminded him of that conversation he'd just had with Leon.

"Let's go check on him, okay?" He put an arm around Sherry's shoulders long enough to lean and kiss the top of her head, then started walking again, holding the lantern. It was still dark outside. The rain had let up for a bit – but the dark storm clouds made it seem much earlier than it was. 

Sherry followed closely. It wasn't like the RV was very far away, but it would be bad if she tripped on anything.


	31. Regeneradores

“Is it just me or is Wesker acting weird?” Sherry asked as they walked.

"Everybody's acting weird, we're all runnin' on fumes," Jake grumbled. "I think Redfield's distracting him."

“It's kind of a good thing,” the blond replied brightly. “I mean, I really want him to work on the cure – but he's a lot less trouble when Chris is around.” 

As they came back to the RV, Leon was leaning outside. He patted his little satellite device roughly and frowned.

Jake did his absolute best not to look or sound awkward as they stepped up to the door — which meant, of course, that he sounded at least a little bit awkward for his efforts. 

"Hey, Leon. There's something you should see back here. Redfield, too, if he's up to a stroll."

Sherry seemed to catch on to the awkwardness, smiling curiously at them as she disappeared inside.

Leon glanced up at Jake, keeping his chin down. 

“Sure.” He stowed the little device and went inside after the short woman.

Jake sighed and clicked the electric lamp off. Wow, Leon must have had a fight with his intel lady or something — he hadn't even noticed the light, nor the big rifle Sherry was carrying around.

He was climbing up onto the RV steps when he ran into Leon — who had run into Sherry, who as it turned out had been run into by Rebecca. They had started in the door just as the brunette was heading out.

"Ah! I'm sorry, Sherry — are you okay?" Rebecca could be heard fretting just inside the RV.

“Oh! I'm fine,” the blond said nicely in return.

Leon glanced back at Jake, unsure what to say to him. The blond seemed to still be irritated by his satellite thing – which would explain why he was frowning.

The redhead was doing his best to avoid looking Leon in the eye. Awkward, still awkward. He was listening to the conversation inside, but Sherry seemed unharmed, judging by the conversation. Well, good.

Rebecca must have moved aside with Sherry, because the doorway cleared up for Leon to step inside.

The ex-agent hurried inside, retreating across the room to hover by the front of the RV. Claire was there and yawned widely.

“Hey.” She waved to her long time friend halfheartedly. 

“Hey,” Leon said shortly, crossing his arms.

Wesker watched the people trickle in. He was still sitting beside Piers, who was cocooned in his blanket. The small brunette spotted Jake and smiled hazily.

Jake stepped over to check on him, glancing at Sherry and Rebecca as he went. Sherry really did seem to be okay. 

Chris sat up on the chair by the door, where he was still seated. 

"The perimeter's done, I take it."

“All clear,” Sherry reported firmly. 

It felt a little strange to see everyone in one place for once. Almost everyone; one person was missing. Where was Billy?

“Good,” Wesker replied, getting up from the dinette. He must have figured that he was no longer needed with Jake there.

"Uh. I-I need to go find Billy," Rebecca said quietly, slipping around the others toward the door. "Nobody saw any lights out on the road, did they?"

"Not exactly." Jake glanced at her and placed the electric lamp on the dinette table. It was off, so nobody else had really noticed it. He patted Piers' shoulders, standing behind his seat.

Leon raised an eyebrow, finally noticing the lamp and the rifle on Sherry's back. 

“Where'd you get that?”

Wesker went over to his little lab and checked on the incubator. 

"Sherry found a room where somebody's been living," Jake informed them all. "And him, but he's dead."

“For good?” Wesker asked, glancing at Sherry. 

“Yes. Someone shot him,” she told him as she came over to sit at the table. “But he has some boxes of supplies up there we should probably take.”

Jake looked at her and nodded. 

To Chris, he added grimly, "Somebody might come lookin' for him still. Looks like he got shot and got away and died up there afterward." By himself. That was lousy to think about.

Chris stood and started toward the door. 

"Okay, let's get any useful supplies out of there and be ready to move if we have to. Kill all the lights that can be seen from outside. If somebody's out looking tonight, hopefully they'll pass us by." 

Wesker followed him quickly – which in turn made Piers sit up to watch him go.

Leon waved a hand. 

“I'll help Rebecca.”

"Sounds good," Chris said over his shoulder, already halfway through the door. He didn't glance back, and didn't seem to notice Wesker chasing after him. 

Jake sat down on the seat beside Piers, noting the blanket wrapping his arms up, and hugged around his shoulders. 

"Hey, how are you doin'? Wanna lay down with me for a bit?" He didn't mean anything but actually laying down, but thanks to recent conversations with Leon, it still made him keep his voice low and blush faintly. 

Piers turned to stare him blankly. He laid his head down against Jake's shoulder and closed his eyes.

Sherry was laying on her face across the table from them, the large rifle hanging over her back. She sat up and watched Piers curiously. 

“Is he okay?”

Jake felt the brunette's cheek with the back of his hand, frowning. 

"Feels really warm. If we could get him to drink something that'd be good."

“'Kay,” Sherry said, going to dig for a water bottle. She seemed like maybe she was wearing down too. Her belly was beginning to show more. It was hard not to notice now. He vaguely recalled her saying that she was at least a few months along back in the old base, but they didn’t know exactly how many. She returned with the water and sat it down in front of Piers. “We also have some apple juice. From concentrate,” she clarified, sitting back down.

Piers stirred and sat up again. 

“Uh...”

"Thanks." Jake definitely noticed how tired she looked. She hadn't slept all night, had she? "Hey, why don't I pull out the bed here so you can lay down? You were dozing off at the table a minute ago. Me and Piers are gonna stay right here."

“Why?” She asked slowly, gesturing behind her. “The bed's open. He's going to have a permanent hunch if he keeps sleeping like that.”

Jake couldn't help a small smirk at that. 

"Okay, okay. My point is you need to rest, too, and we'll still be nearby." He'd actually been reluctant to go off to the bed because if Sherry was at the dinette bed, it put her out of his sight...but she made a good point about the hunch back concerns.

The petite blond smiled back at him. 

“Come on.” She got up and grabbed the water bottle. Even though Wesker and Chris had slept in there earlier, the back bedroom still sort of felt like it was theirs.

Jake slid off of the dinette bench and scooped Piers up, carrying him carefully back to the bed. He was relieved that Sherry had decided to come with them on her own. He didn't want to ask her to in case there was any risk of danger, but he actually felt a lot better having both of them in sight.

Placing Piers gently on the bed, the redhead unwrapped the blanket from around him and carefully secured one wrist to the nearest of the straps. Just in case.

Piers reached his other arm up and hugged it around Jake's neck, sighing deeply.

Sherry ditched her boots and crawled up under the blankets tiredly, watching Piers. 

“I hope he starts talking again. It's kind of weird when he doesn't,” she said, eyes already falling closed.

The small brunette didn't seem to noticed her talking – also closing his eyes.

Jake patted Piers' back, sighing. 

"Yeah, me too. I bet he feels better in the morning. He always gets a fever right after his shot." 

He reached for the water bottle, taking the top off and splashing some onto the corner of the blanket, which had been hanging off the bed. As gently as he could, he dabbed some water on Piers' cheeks and forehead, just to cool him down a little. "You go ahead and sleep, I'll wake you up if anything happens," he assured Sherry.

He didn't really plan on sleeping tonight.  


* * *

  
It was hard to find places for them all to sleep, but eventually the group had settled in. It was early in the morning when Chris heard something outside. He had managed to stubbornly stay awake all night – and so did Wesker. The cool headed blond sat quietly working on his tablet.

When the soft scratching started on top of the RV, the blond man glanced up at the roof.

Chris got to his feet slowly, looking up at the roof as well. That...didn't sound like a person out there.

Wesker rose too and came over to Chris's side protectively. He watched the roof intently, red eyes ever calm.

Whatever it was, it had stopped moving when they did.

A zombie would have made noise climbing up there. Chris was reminded of the Lickers from the mall earlier, and didn't like that one bit. He glanced from the ceiling to Wesker as the blond stepped closer, frowning. 

'Licker?' He mouthed silently, pointing at the roof. 

Wesker placed a hand on his shoulder, mouthing a reply: 'Stay here.' 

He moved quietly to the door, stepping over Claire's sleeping body.

Chris didn't particularly like standing back and letting Wesker go out there alone, but nodded — then moved quietly to locate the nearest gun.

Before Wesker could open the door though, a face and arm burst through the roof, clawing for Chris. The blond moved in a flash to pull Chris out of the way.

Abruptly, everyone was awake. Claire scrambled for her gun, as did Leon. The ex-agent pressed back against the wall as the newcomer tried to wriggle its way into the RV skylight.

The thing sticking through the roof was rotted away almost to the bone – its stringy muscles showing through worn away flesh. It half screamed, drool splattering onto the floor.

Cringing, Claire leaned back against the wall too – or so she thought. But the RV door flung open, dumping her outside and out of their sight.

"What the hell is that?" Jake poked his head out of the bedroom, glancing around quickly to figure out what was making all of the noise out there. He had brought his gun with him as well — and trained it on the thing the moment he spotted it. 

Writhing, the creature fell onto the floor with a wet slap. It pushed off of the floor and promptly found a fist through its neck. It gargled and twisted its limbs, latching onto Wesker's arm. The blond threw it to the floor – but any damage he’d done was already healing up.

Another bony face appeared through the open door. Knobby fingers wrapped around the door frame, pulling the creature inside. There were two of them.

“Claire!” Leon yelled off behind it, squinting to see outside.

Chris pressed his back to the wall and moved toward the door. 

"Get them outside!" He ordered, mostly to Wesker but maybe Jake could help as well. 

Firing a gun inside the RV was more dangerous to the people in there than these things — and it looked like they healed rapidly. Getting them away from the bedroom with Sherry and Piers was the immediate concern.

Blinking from across the room to Chris again, Wesker delivered a powerful kick to the zombie in the doorway. It grunted as it flew back outside. Wesker doubled back, shoving Chris aside again. It seemed like he didn't want the brunette to go out after Claire. 

He grabbed the monster in the middle of the room – its blood stained teeth clamping onto his arm – and dragged it toward the door. It flailed, tentacles bursting from its chest to cut into the blond's face and arm. 

Across the room, Leon's eyes widened with recognition as he tried to slide along the wall to the door as well. Surprisingly, Jake actually left the bedroom doorway to help him get the thing outside. 

Chris pressed to the wall again to get out of their way as they went past, moving to the front of the RV to see if he could see what was happening outside through the door.

In the dim morning light, he could just barely out his sister tearing across the yard and into the service station – another one of those things in pursuit.

Wesker wasn't making very much progress with removing the zombie. It had sunk its tentacles into everything nearby, snapping and biting whatever limb got close to it. Its bony face had split at the jaw, revealing a drooling mouth full of jagged teeth.

Leon paused at the door and shook his head. 

“You have to hit it in certain spots!” He called to Wesker. “Does anyone have infrared?” 

The blond tangled in the monster growled, pulling his knife and cutting at the creature's tendrils. 

Jake did an abrupt U-turn from the door and dashed back into the bedroom. He returned a moment later with the big rifle Sherry had just brought back from the dead man's stash, shoving it at Leon. 

"Here — if you know how to take these things out, then do it!" Preferably before the nasty thing maimed Wesker's arm any worse. 

Chris opened the front door of the RV and hopped out, chasing after Claire and the thing following her. There weren't any more of them outside, were there? 

Something moved in the dark behind him as he went. There were definitely more.

Giving up on getting it to the door, Wesker dropped to the floor and kicked the zombie with both feet – tearing its teeth from his arm.

There was a loud 'thump' as it slammed into the wall near the dinette.

Leon hurriedly flicked the safety off and braced the large gun on the floor. Hopefully it had a infrared scope on it. He leaned to look through it...

...Just as the other creature stuck its head back through the door, grabbing onto the blond and dragging him outside.

Seeing that Chris had darted out of the door, and now that Leon was being pulled out, Wesker sped after them.

The three rolled outside into the mud, the scientist trying to separate the creature's tentacles from around Leon. He noticed Chris heading toward the building and grimaced.

A gunshot rang out through the parking garage, and bits of concrete flew up from the floor inches from Wesker's arm.

"Hold the damn thing still!" Since Leon had gotten hauled away, Jake had taken it upon himself to snipe at the zombie with the rifle. Looking through the infrared scope, he could see what Leon had meant about shooting certain spots. He hadn't mentioned that they moved around.

Chris was now out of sight...

Wesker pushed Leon out of the way. Getting shot would barely phase HIM, but the blond could die from it. Was Jake even any good at sniping?

Grabbing a nearby car door, Wesker smashed the creature several times to subdue it. He had to go after Chris. Seeing that it was momentarily stunned, he took off toward the station – but stopped again. Piers and Sherry were still inside with one of those things.

Glancing where Chris went and then back to the RV, he felt strangely torn. For a split second.

But as the second creature jumped out of the door after Jake, he sped back to help his son again. Leaving one for him to shoot was very different from leaving two. As he dragged the second one out into the mud, he silently prayed Chris's head injuries hadn't robbed him of his survival skills

Jake had noticed the second creature just as Wesker grabbed it — so he ignored it and focused on shooting the dazed one before it got up again. 

As soon as he shot the strange moving things inside of it, the monster begin to melt into the mud, its flesh falling away in chunks. As soon as he’d thrown the other one to the ground, Wesker dashed off toward the station. 

Chris could have been dead by then.

Jake promptly turned to shoot the other creature. Seeing as Wesker appeared to be in a hurry to leave, he couldn't risk it getting back up and getting back into the RV. Piers and Sherry had to be awake by now with all of the shouting and gunfire, and Piers was still strapped to the bed. 

Reaching the station, Wesker looked frantically around for any sign of Chris or his sister. 

“Chris?” He hurried through the first room, glancing around. “Chris!”

The brunette was standing right next to the doorway in the second room, gun drawn and eyes forward. The zombie was across the room, though, doing its best to tear through another door. Claire must have still had its attention.

Wesker grabbed him and pulled him back out of the room, hissing in his ear. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

The brunette struggled to pull out of his grip and head back into the room — not that he actually could overpower Wesker. 

"It's gonna get Claire — we've got to help her," he growled back.

There were still gunshots ringing out from the other room.

“Look at me,” Wesker growled, showing Chris his slashed up arms and face. “You'd get torn apart.” He leaned around the door to check on the creature briefly. “Apparently, it has specific weak spots.” He checked Chris over quickly to make sure he wasn't hurt.

He didn't have a scratch on him; the creature had apparently not taken its attention off of Claire this whole time.

"I heard, something about infrared," Chris replied quickly, frowning at the new injuries Wesker was sporting. He wasn't invincible, and he didn't heal as fast as these things — fighting them hand-to-hand was out of the question.

Wesker looked around – then snagged a fire extinguisher from the wall and a chain from the nearby workbench. 

“I'll handle it. Stay here.” 

Glancing down at the fire extinguisher, Chris nodded quickly and stepped back near the door. If it took infrared to see the weak points, maybe cold would beat this thing. Hopefully.

The gunshots outside had ceased. 

As Wesker stepped past to close in on the creature, though, he didn't actually operate the fire extinguisher. Instead he used it to club the creature brutally in the head. The container broke, spewing foam. 

The creature howled, turning to bite at its attacker. Wesker shoved the extinguisher into its mouth and looped the chain around its neck, dragging it away from the door. The monster kicked and snarled – clawing at the tank in its mouth. The blond man looped the chain around it again to pull it further away from the door where Claire was.

Chris kept his distance, feeling like he ought to be helping somehow but not having many options available. It seemed like participating in a fight these days made him a distraction to Wesker, which was dangerous.

Slinging the chain over a half-built car, Wesker worked on securing the creature there.

The door across the room pushed open and Claire poked her head out. She was covered in mud and grime, but seemed to be okay. She hurried to her brother's side.

Chris reached and hugged her with one arm, his gun still clutched in the other hand. 

"You okay?"

The door burst open beside them, and Rebecca dashed in, followed closely by Billy. The little brunette was carrying Jake's sniper rifle.

"Chris! Jake said to bring you this," she said hastily — then stopped and stared at how Wesker had tied the regenerator up across the room.

Billy stopped behind her, large silver magnum in hand.

The blond scientist stood near the car, cuts bleeding down his face. He frowned, red eyes tired. 

The creature behind him struggled and snarled, smashing up the tank with its overly large mouth. It didn't seem pleased.

Chris looked from Claire to the others, then to the creature. Holstering his pistol, he held out his hand to Rebecca for the rifle. 

"Give me that." When she handed it to him, he turned to Wesker and waved a hand. "Wesker, get clear of that thing."

Rebecca inched back toward the door. Compared to the parking garage, this was a tiny room, and it felt crowded.

Wesker stepped aside lightly. Chris rarely ever said his name anymore, not directly to him. At least that strange awkwardness from earlier was gone. He joined Claire at Chris's side, keeping an eye on the monster in case it got loose.

Chris stepped away from the others and carefully took aim at the bright points that showed up in the scope, shooting them one by one. Once the creature was immobilized, it was really pretty simple to dispatch.

“Is everyone in the RV okay?” Claire finally asked Rebecca, squeezing mud from her ponytail.

As soon as the creature started to dissolve, Wesker pulled Chris away from it – careful not to get any blood on him. 

Clicking the safety on on the gun, Chris turned to him grimly. 

"Everybody back to the RV."  


* * *

  
Jake stepped quickly through the torn up bits of the ceiling in the RV, heading into the bedroom section. He'd shoved the rifle into Rebecca's hands, told her to give it to Chris, and gone straight from killing that last regenerator to checking on Piers and Sherry.

He looked at the bed immediately, dreading the thought that another of the creatures had burst through the ceiling while he was dealing with the other ones.

Both Sherry and Piers were still on the bed, the blond woman hugging the small soldier's shoulders tightly. 

“The shooting stopped, I'm sure they're fine – just calm down.”

Piers was yanking on his strap and trying to sit up. 

“Go help him!”

They both looked up when Jake came in and Sherry ran to hug him. 

“Are you okay?”

Jake hugged her tightly, relieved that neither of them seemed injured. 

"I'm fine, not a scratch on me," he promised, glancing from her to Piers guiltily. Scooping the blond up, he headed over to the bed and sat her beside Piers, then reached and unstrapped the brunette's wrist. 

Piers sat up and hugged both of them tightly, propping his chin on Jake's shoulder. 

Sherry smiled softly. 

“He's not all spacey anymore.”

Letting go of them, Piers looked up at Jake with tired gray eyes. 

“I'm sorry I didn't have your back.” He frowned sadly. Being strapped to the bed wasn't exactly helpful to anyone – hopefully Wesker's cure started working again.

"You can blame me if it makes ya feel better," the redhead joked, patting his back. "I'm the one who strapped you in this time." Growing serious, he added, "You don't have to worry, I've got a lot of combat experience. That, and Wesker did most of the brawling this time." He glanced at Sherry.

Piers smirked. 

“I wasn't saying that you couldn't handle it,” He glanced at Sherry, who was returning his amused look. “I just want to help out more. I feel a lot better now.” He looked down at his hands, opening and closing his fingers. “I think it's working.”

Noticing the exchanged glance, Jake frowned a tiny bit, but didn't comment. 

"I just want you guys to be safe," he said honestly. "Even if you weren't sick, and Sherry didn't have Super Kid on the way, I'd still want that."

He'd been thinking lately about what they would all do after getting Piers' condition cured once and for all...looking on the bright side and assuming that it could be cured. He didn't know what kind of home either of them actually preferred, and had resolved to find out.

“Hey,” a familiar voice interrupted from behind them. It was Billy – that was his name, right? He came into the room slowly, probably trying not to startle them after all the fighting. Holding up the large rifle, he shrugged a shoulder. “You kids okay?”

Piers crawled clumsily off of the bed and went to the tattooed man, eyeing the rifle. 

“Y-yeah, what's that?”

Jake hugged Sherry again while she was within arms' reach and then slipped off of the bed, too.

"We're okay. Did you see where Leon ended up? I lost track of him when I was shooting." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced at the doorway. He'd been so anxious to check on Piers and Sherry that he'd entirely forgotten about the blond. Last he'd seen of Leon, he was being hauled along with Wesker and one of the regenerators out the door.

“Ah yeah – he's in the...the living room?” Billy said with a frown. The RV was so tiny, it could have been a studio apartment. “He seems okay.”

He laid the rifle in Piers' hands – much to the small sniper's delight. Right. He hadn't been in his right mind when they brought it back. It was probably the first time he had seen it.

“Wow. Thank you.” He leaned to look through the scope, wobbling on his feet. “Infrared scope – nice!”

Sherry smiled and joined him, helping balance him out with a hand on his back. 

“We found it earlier and it made me think of you,” she said sweetly. Piers smiled back at her, giving her a gentle hug around the shoulders.

“You're awesome.”

Jake turned to them and gestured to the rifle. 

"Yeah, sorry the clip's probably empty. The infrared really helped with those zombies a few minutes ago, though."

“See? I could have helped with that,” the short man said happily. He did seem a lot better all of a sudden. Was that shot they gave him one of the old treatments or did Wesker make something new already?

“There's more ammo for it in the jeep,” Billy added, giving the group a wave. “I can grab you some.” He didn't wait for them to tell him to or not and left. Piers just hugged the rifle happily. The little blond next to him turned back to Jake and shrugged. 

“Well. I don't think going back to bed's an option – who's up for splam and peaches?” She said dubiously.

Piers groaned. 

“I'll starve, thanks.”

Jake was once again caught off-guard by how Piers smiling affected him. The brunette just looked so...well, cute. He still wasn't used to having that reaction to another guy. Sherry seemed happy that he liked the rifle she'd brought back for him, which was pretty cute, too. They didn't get much chance to relax lately — or reasons to smile.

"There's still some of the yams left in the oven," the redhead reminded them, stepping toward the door and looking a tiny bit flustered. He gestured toward the living room. "I'm gonna check on Leon real quick..."

The two of them sat back down on the bed – which was a good idea with how much Piers was still wobbling. Sherry looked up at Jake and nodded. 

“And I'll grab the yams!” She hopped back to her feet and led the way into the living room area. Piers seemed content to sit and examine the new gun.

The living room part of the RV was just as much of a tattered mess the second time through. There was a big hole in the roof, pieces of skylight and roofing material on the floor, holes punched in every available surface from the regenerators' tentacles, and blood from Wesker and the zombies both.

In the midst of it all sat Leon. Jake stepped over the twisted aluminum skylight frame laying on the floor to get closer to the blond man.

"Hey, you okay? Still got all your limbs?" 

Leon looked slowly up at him, an instant ice pack held to his eye. The poor guy looked absolutely exhausted. A thick coat of mud and filth coated his side and front from where Wesker had tossed him away from the zombie. His unusually nice hair was actually sticking up in random, mud spiked directions. There were several cuts and scrapes all over his face and hands. 

He sighed heavily and mumbled, “Thanks for shooting that thing.” 

Sherry looked surprised at the room and very sad for Leon. She patted his shoulder as she passed, cringing when he grimaced at her touch.

Jake gave Leon a deadpan thumbs up. 

"You're welcome. Don't tell him I said this, but we're pretty damned lucky Wesker was here to get it off of you." He stepped past Leon to the doorway to snag Rebecca's medical bag and move back over to the dinette. Miraculously, the little table and bench seats had been unharmed in the fight.

Leon just sat there, shoulders slumped. He seemed very...out of spirits. Sherry dropped a little sauce bowl of yams in front of him, reaching to ruffle his hair but then thinking better of it. 

She disappeared back into the bedroom with the rest of the yam pan, hopping lightly over the gross floor. Blood-covered things were just another part of life now.

Jake rummaged in the bag, pulling out alcohol wipes, band aids and some antibiotic ointment. "We're also lucky you knew how to kill 'em on sight," he added more quietly, looking at Leon. "How'd you know that?"

The blond turned his head numbly to look up at him, surprised he was still there. 

“Experience. I ran into some of those before. In labs and...stuff.” Leon braced an arm on the table painfully, sitting the ice pack down. “I'm amazed your dad helped us at all, with Chris running off.” His mouth was partly numb from the cold compress and his words were slightly slurred.

"Me, too," Jake admitted, glancing at the front door of the RV. He frowned. "He went after Chris a minute ago, so I'm assuming they're alright. Maybe I better go check."

He was just getting to his feet when something crackled outside. Footsteps; several pairs of footsteps, walking through bits of broken glass and debris outside the RV.

Leon didn't seem to notice them and shrugged. 

“Billy brought the gun back, so my guess is that they're okay.”

The RV door pushed open and Claire came in. She looked a little frazzled, herself, with a familiar coat of mud. She spotted Leon and cooed. 

“Aww, poor baby.” She came over and patted his shoulders roughly. “You want a MRE?”

“I...have yams,” Leon said tightly, pushing her hands away. 

With a shrug, Claire started stripping – making a beeline for the shower. She dropped her shirt and was undoing her shorts when she disappeared into the shower.

Well. She wasn't shy.

Wesker came in next, carefully leading Chris at arms’ length. His own arms were sliced and scratched like he had rolled through a blackberry bush or something. The blond still hadn't found a new pair of shades. He was talking as they came in.

"I'll get you a towel.”

"No," Chris said promptly, frowning. "You're gonna sit down and let Rebecca patch you up." Sighting Leon, he blinked and promptly turned to lean back out the door. "Rebecca, Leon's bleeding, too..."

"On it!" The little brunette said quickly, climbing the steps to the RV. She started for Leon first, but Jake waved her away. 

"I've got him, you stitch Wesker up."

Wesker ignored them all, peeking into the back room to check on Piers and Sherry. Satisfied they were still in one piece, he yanked open the shower's door – which earned him some colorful words from Claire – snagged a towel and then returned to Chris's side.

A hand stuck out and pulled the shower closed again with a sigh.

Leon frowned dubiously at that, but looked up at Jake. 

“Um, thanks.”

The redhead sat on the edge of the dinette seat next to him and took one of the alcohol wipes from the pack. 

"Sure. Look at me a sec, your cheek's bleeding." He very nearly just gripped Leon's chin and turned the blond's head toward him, but stopped himself. Piers didn't mind that, but Leon probably would.


	32. Crazy

Chris sat down in the chair by the door, sighing heavily. The RV had a huge hole in the roof...if they went driving now, it would fill up with rain.

Rebecca moved over to pull some more latex gloves out of the medical pack, slipping them on. She waved for Wesker to come over and sit at the other side of the table. 

"Chris is okay, come over here before you bleed on anything else."

The tall blond unhappily went to her, using the towel to wipe the blood from some of his injuries. 

“I can stitch myself if need be.”

Leon shifted on his seat to face Jake more and tried to look at least half awake. 

“I need to go check out the perimeter again. Those things had to have gotten in somehow.”

Jake frowned and dabbed at the scrape on his cheek that was bleeding. 

"We're gonna have to move soon anyway. We already knew there were bad guys around, Sherry found a guy who got shot to death, and now we fire off at least a dozen sniper rounds? Somebody probably heard that."

"We've got to move," Chris agreed from across the room. "Not right this minute, though. We need to patch the RV's roof." It was horrifying to think what would happen if something like the regenerators crawled across the hole in the roof with just a tarp over it or something....

Rebecca focused on inspecting the cuts on Wesker's arms and chest, listening to the others talk.

“I'll fix it.” Wesker stated. The scientist seemed eager to go back outside, that was for sure. “While I keep watch.” He added.

Cringing from the alcohol wipe, Leon took the time to closely examine Jake again. Those eyes. It was hard to even imagine that brilliant of a blue in place of Wesker's demonic red. He glanced at Chris. His long time friend probably wondered the same thing...

Then something occurred to him. Did Chris ever 'bribe' Wesker – or was their relationship something real now? He glanced between them. Something had definitely changed.

Chris was looking over at Wesker unhappily. 

"You're in pretty rough shape," he said. "You need to take it easy until you heal up." 

Jake, meanwhile, definitely noticed that he was being stared at. His brows furrowed a tiny bit, and he seemed very intently focused on cleaning the scrapes on Leon's cheek, avoiding his eyes.

There was so much mud on Leon's face and in his hair that the redhead paused doing that, even, to pick up the edge of the blanket left on the dinette seats and just wipe mud off. 

“I will,” Wesker replied calmly. He noticed Leon's glance and frowned. The blond was in rougher shape than he had meant to leave him. First their little tussle, then trying to detach a zombie from him. It seemed to Wesker that Leon was one of the less durable members of the group.

Jake gave up on getting the rest of the mud out of Leon's hair, but at least his face and hands were relatively clean so that the scrapes could be disinfected. A few minutes and numerous bandaids later, Leon was as patched up as he was going to get.

Interpreting the conversation between Chris and Wesker as a sign that her patient might run off at any minute, Rebecca had hastily cleaned the gashes on the blond's arms and stitched them up as neatly as she could. 

Cutting the ends of the thread, she told Wesker dubiously, "Okay, you're done. At this rate I'm expecting to reattach a severed limb next time."

“Thank you, Officer Chambers,” Wesker said politely, slipping his long forgotten jacket back on. “I'll attempt to limit my injuries to cuts and bruises.” With a tiny bow of his head, he went back outside. No doubt to patch the roof.

Seeing that Jake was done, Leon gave him a smile and a pat on the shoulder. 

“Thanks.” He gestured behind the redhead. “Can I get out? That fence isn't going to fix itself.”

Jake got up from the seat, but promptly turned back to Leon and crossed his arms. 

"Listen, until we're sure there aren't more of those things outside, it would be stupid to go off anywhere alone."

Chris watched Wesker doing just that and sighed. 

“I think they would be in here by now if there were more,” Leon said, forcing himself to stand up. He stretched his back slowly, cringing at the cricking sound. “But Billy and Rebecca are out there somewhere too. I won't be alone,” he reassured Jake. “I'll stay in sight.”

"Uh-huh," Jake said dubiously. He pointed at Leon and frowned. "Don't you dare get zombified and make me shoot you." As horribly awkward as that conversation with Leon had been, it had actually made Jake respect him a little bit more.

Chris got to his feet, stepping over to Leon. 

"I'll help you." He glanced at the others in the room. "Everybody else should try and clear the junk off of the floor in here and get ready to move again soon."

“Let's not worry about them seeing through the fence – we just need to make sure that they can't wander in over the night,” Leon said, snagging a coat from one of the supply boxes. It was a brown padded jacket that went down to his hips – he looked like he needed it.

Rebecca peeled off her latex gloves and nodded at them. 

"Be careful." She placed the gloves aside, picked up her medical bag, and went to check on Sherry and Piers in the bedroom part of the RV. 

Chris stepped out of the RV and glanced around quickly. Other than debris and busted up cars, the space around the RV seemed pretty clear. Definitely no zombies inside, at least. He picked a part of the perimeter fence to start at and headed over there, figuring Leon would follow.

He heard something move on top of the RV – but it was only Wesker. He was busy laying some metal down on the roof to cover the hole.

Leon caught up to Chris with effort and followed him to the fence. He seemed slightly awkward as they walked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“...Did you tell Jake I was gay?”

"Uh." The brunette turned toward him, blinking. "No...did he say that I did?"

Leon stared back at him tiredly. 

“Do YOU think I'm gay?” He shrugged a shoulder. “I'm not. In case there was some confusion there.” The blond trailed off and paused along the fence line, looking down it both ways.

Chris turned and looked at the fence, too, running his fingers through his hair. What an awkward conversation. 

"You talked to me about Ada. I'm pretty sure Ada's not a man, so, yeah, you're straight," he sighed.

Leon chuckled. 

“Jake tried to ask me for advice about guys. I...really didn't know what to say.” He looked at Chris and smiled warmly. “I mean sure – the Prisbee guy in college was hot – but he was into me, not the other way around.” He paused and held up a hand. “And before you make any comments – I didn't mean that sexually – he just liked me. We were buddies.” Leon blinked slowly, mind wandering off into memories. “I don't even remember what he looked like now.”

Chris looked at him quickly, a strange little frown coming over his face. 

"Prisbee guy? Did he hit you with it?" 

He had no idea why he'd blurted that out. The dreams had no connection with real life besides the people he imagined into them. Then he blinked as the rest of Leon's statement sank in, and he raised both eyebrows. "Jake asked about — wow. Seems weird he'd choose you to ask..."

Leon blushed. 

“Yeah. Guess I told you before, huh? He nailed me in the nose. That's how we met.” He looked off behind Chris back towards the RV and shrugged. 

He really wanted to bug Chris about his love life – or whatever he called his Wesker infatuation. But the scientist might be able to hear them. Leon frowned. What if he had super hearing or something?

"Y-yeah, guess you must've mentioned it," Chris said a bit too quickly. It had been awhile since he'd been able to talk to Leon without everybody else around. He kind of wanted to tell his friend about his weird dreams, but he was afraid Leon would think he was crazy.

Maybe he WAS crazy.

He started walking along the fence slowly, checking for any holes or damaged spots.

Leon followed after him slowly. With that kind of response, Chris clearly HAD thought he was gay. 

“Hey.”

"Huh?" The brunette turned back to him quickly, still uneasy. That itself bothered him — that he wasn't comfortable just chatting with Leon anymore. If he couldn't relax when talking to his best friend, then he couldn't relax when talking to anybody.

“Are you alright?” The blond came up to his side, glancing him over. “You know. Mentally. I know you and Wesker must have worked something out.” Just after the Licker and the sewers thing, Chris and Wesker had openly kissed in front of him and Sherry. But once they got back on the road, Chris and Wesker seemed back to avoiding touching.

Then again, Leon had spent a good part of the trip rolling around in the back of the jeep – not in the RV. He might have missed something.

Noticing that he was being looked over, Chris cleared his throat and looked off down the fence, feeling his face grow warm. Just mentally, huh. Sure. 

"I'm not gonna have some breakdown or something, if that's what you're asking," he said quietly, glancing back at the blond. Did Leon still think he and Wesker were 'bargaining', even after overhearing that conversation in the RV? Then again, Chris had never really replied to Wesker's comment. It probably DID all look pretty one-sided to the others.

If he clarified that he actually wanted to be with Wesker, though, what would they think?

His blond friend mumbled, looking back at Wesker for a second. But Leon turned back to him and sighed. 

“Just...talk to me before you do, alright?” He went ahead to check over the fence too, not really paying any attention to it.

Chris stepped after him, wanting to say something, but unable to come up with any good reply. He wasn't in any danger of a breakdown, was he? Did he look that way to the others? Maybe they all thought he was crazy anyway, so admitting to feelings for Wesker couldn't do much more to damage his reputation? 

It was a wonder that they all still followed his orders these days. He poked at the perimeter fence and drew a deep breath. 

"Leon. There's some stuff I can't talk about — even with you." 

“Well, ouch. That hurts.” The blond man sighed, moving along the fence line. “Is it because you found out I'm straight?” He added curiously, looking at Chris again. He cringed, cheeks blushing. “Is it a sex thing? Is he...weird down there?”

"Wh — n-no! God. Nothing like that!" Chris held up both hands, giving up on trying to hide his embarrassment. He couldn't quite look Leon in the eye right now, not with where this conversation was sending his thoughts. Good god, he hadn't even thought about that possibility.

Sucking in some air, he moved one hand to massage his temple, looking down at the bottom of the fence. "It's not your fault. I-I mean I've got nobody I can talk to about this. You can barely stand to even see me with him. I know the others feel the same way."

“Hm 'kay.” Leon came back over to where Chris was along the fence and leaned on it. They were standing close enough that the blond could whisper to him. “You can talk to me anytime. It's not like we have a therapist we can call – we're all we've got.” He shrugged. “I was kind of wondering if you two were doing okay or not. Wesker seems more distant than when we were at the mall.”

It was kind of sad to him that Chris thought they couldn't talk anymore. It wasn't like there was anything the large man could say that would make Leon leave. He dared a glance back at the RV to make sure Wesker hadn't moved. He was still up there – good.

Chris was looking at him sadly when he glanced back. 

"I-I don't think I should be in charge anymore. If I told you everything, I don't think you'd think so, either." 

Leon patted his shoulder affectionately, smiling. Vague feelings from Chris's dream came bubbling to the surface. Al had thought that Chris was cheating on him...with Leon. The blond kept smiling, shaking his head.

“Chris. You seem perfectly fine. So you got bashed in the head and fell in love with your ex-super villain – it's probably the least of our worries right now. I just wanted you to know that I'm here to chat if you need to.” He squeezed Chris's shoulder. “Just like I said – come to me before it makes your head explode.”

"Y-you don't think that makes me crazy?" Chris was surprised to hear him say 'love', and it showed. He hadn't even gotten to labeling it that yet, himself. Frankly, he wasn't sure that's what it was. If the dreams were any indication, though... 

Heavily, he added, "I never wanted to kill him." 

Leon nodded knowingly. 

“And I don't think he wanted to kill you. It seems like he had lots of chances.” He looked at the RV again – flinching when he noticed that Wesker was looking their way. Well, glaring. 

Suddenly aware of how close they were standing, Leon took a step back along the fence. Those red eyes were a little scarier when they were pointed at him.

“So you guys must have liked each other from the start,” he said nervously, trying very hard NOT to look at Wesker again.

Unfortunately — or fortunately, perhaps — Chris didn't notice that Wesker was looking over there, and placed both hands on Leon's shoulders. He was so relieved he could have cried. 

"S-since the day I met him," he whispered. "Sorry, you just seem so...disgusted every time we're near each other, I-I didn't think you'd want to hear about it." He looked down at the muddy ground, feeling tired again suddenly. All of this anxiety was exhausting. He was still worried he'd misunderstood and Leon really didn't want to discuss Wesker at all.

“Oh, that's just to annoy him,” Leon replied. Was Wesker looking jealous, or was that just him? 

He was obsessed with Chris. Crazy and obsessed. Trying very hard to maintain his calm, Leon just looked at Chris and nodded. 

“I think I prefer you guys kissing to him blowing up the world.”

Chris looked sad again and nodded a little, letting go of Leon to turn and poke at the fence half-heartedly. So it was the lesser of two evils. 

Everybody still hated Wesker's guts, and nobody could probably comprehend what reason he would have to be attracted to the blond man. 

With all of the things that Wesker had done, he felt strangely guilty that he could forgive everything so easily. He shouldn't have been able to, right? But that was years in the past, and he and Wesker were here now and had few obstacles to being happy except for the ones they placed in front of themselves. There wasn't much of a world left, and they could be apart and miserable or just give being together a damned try already. They were certainly sick of fighting.

“Hey.” A hand rested on his shoulder again and Leon sighed. “I didn't mean it like that.” He stepped in front of Chris again and grew serious. “Is there anything I can do to help? Anything?” The blond man looked up at Chris apologetically. “Really. I feel like I'm useless when it comes to dealing with him. He throws me around like a rag doll.”

The big brunette glanced down at his shoulder at that last comment, brows pinching sadly. 

"I'm sorry. He's only here because I couldn't let him go when he tried to leave." 

He paused, drawing a slow breath. "I-I was gonna leave, once we got to the mountains and Piers was cured," he admitted. "Take him away from all of you. See, I-I can't let him go, even if it means cutting myself off from everybody else. That sounds pretty crazy to me..." 

He laughed unhappily and put a hand over his face. He wasn't sure he could really do that — not see Leon, or Sherry, or Piers. Claire. Especially Claire.

“You can't leave,” Leon said, frowning sadly. He grabbed Chris's other shoulder and shook his head. “We all need you here. I told you last time you tried to run off – it's not going to work.” The ex-agent squeezed his shoulders. “I won't gag when you kiss Wesker anymore – I promise,” he added, in an attempt to lighten the mood. But his own expression was very heavy. Of course Chris was just going to leave. Wesker probably wanted him to.

Without uncovering his face, Chris moved his other hand to rest over one of Leon's on his shoulders. 

"Th-thank you. I don't want to leave, I just thought it might be safer for all of you."

“Who knows, maybe me and Wesker'll be best buddies,” the blond said with a grimace. 

There was a splash as Wesker landed behind the RV, rising slowly to look their way again. His red eyes were trained on them both as he calmly picked up a tool from a toolbox.

Leon eyed him the whole time but then looked back up at Chris. “He saved my butt back there. I guess he has a bit of good in there somewhere.” He had been more than a little surprised when Wesker had stopped to help him.

"Y-you never know." Chris moved his hand and rubbed at his eyes as nonchalantly as possible — which wasn't much, but maybe if he didn't comment on it, Leon wouldn't, either. 

This conversation meant a lot. He was damned lucky to get to call Leon his friend. 

At the risk of pissing Wesker off more – since he already seemed jealous – Leon hugged Chris. He patted the brunette's back. He wanted to say something, but it would probably just come out awkward.

Chris immediately wrapped both arms around him, hugging him tightly back. He'd kind of wanted to do so before, but he didn't want to make Leon uncomfortable, especially after this discussion about people thinking he was gay. There were so many things to worry about messing up; it was tiring.

The hug gave him a few seconds to take a breath and regain his composure. He patted Leon's back and pulled away after a moment, mustering up a small smile. 

"Thank you, Leon. I'll be okay." They still had a lot to worry about, but it was a huge relief to admit to somebody finally that Wesker was important to him — maybe even that he loved Wesker. Maybe he could manage to tell Wesker that sometime next...  


* * *

  
When Rebecca had gone to check on Sherry and Piers, they seemed alright. The little blond seemed very worn out and was napping behind Piers when she came in – apparently having eaten all of the yams. The short soldier stood guard over her, large rifle laid across his lap.

He smiled at Rebecca when she came in.

The medic looked from Sherry to him and smiled gently. 

"You seem to be feeling much better. I came to check on you and Sherry," she said, keeping her voice soft. She didn't want to wake Sherry.

“Oh.” Piers glanced down at the blond under his arm, also keeping his voice low “She just fell asleep. Do you want me to wake her up?” He looked at Rebecca again. He looked much better than before. His face wasn't as pale and his eyes were alert.

Rebecca stepped over next to the bed, shaking her head. 

"No, let her sleep. It's not a check-up, I just wanted to remind her to eat enough and to rest. I know the last part's hard to do around here..." 

She sighed, looking at Piers next — and remembering that awkward conversation with Sherry in the changing room, about Jake and Piers and her. The three seemed to stick pretty close to each other, so she assumed the talk with Jake about that had gone well. 

Piers looked directly back at her, pale gray eyes calm. 

“She ate all the yams and now she's napping so...that's good.” He smiled and patted the sleeping woman's arm.

Rebecca smiled, too, and couldn't help blushing a tiny bit as she asked, "How about you? Jake seems to be taking very good care of you."

The brunette man's cheeks flushed too. 

“Oh uh. Yes. I'm fine,” He replied quickly, shifting on the bed. Everyone knew about the three of them...right? He stared at her shyly and cleared his throat. “Don't tell anyone I asked, but how's Wesker?”

"Well, I stitched up his arms and chest and one really nasty cut on his face," Rebecca sighed, glancing back at the door. "The first injury from the car is already healing, though, and he's moving around and repairing the roof. I think he'll be fine."

“That's good. Hopefully he can start working on the cure again,” Piers added nervously, as if that was the reason he had been asking. He really didn't know what to say. He had barely had a chance to talk to Rebecca. Chris always spoke highly of her. She really didn't look much older than himself. 

“So...with all the shooting, I guess we have to move-”

“Rebecca?” Piers was cut off by Wesker's voice. After a moment, the tall blond leaned his head in the door.

"Hm?" The brunette glanced back at the door quickly. Seeing Wesker right there, she turned back to Piers and held up a hand. "I'll check back later, okay?"

With that, she stepped over to the doorway by Wesker.

“I've been considering your formula. I've adjusted it.” Wesker offered her the tablet. “I believe it will last much longer now.” He almost sounded sad about it though. He kept his eyes low while he spoke. “Since we have to move again, we will be heading back out to the highway – and to that horde. It would be a good opportunity to test it.”

"Oh! Okay, let me take a look..." Rebecca carefully lifted the tablet out of his hands, smiling nervously. "Y-you probably had to re-write most of the formulas to get it to work any better..."

“No, your formulas were...adequate,” he replied evenly. Without waiting for her response, he turned and went across the kitchen and promptly out the door. If possible, he seemed to be in a worse mood than usual.

Rebecca stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door carefully behind her, not looking up from the tablet. 'Adequate', huh. Well, which formulas wasn't as important as how one combined them, so hopefully that had been useful. He hadn't changed so much that she couldn't recognize the work anymore, at least.

Jake stepped back inside the RV, kicking the last bit of metal from the floor to out the door. 

"Any special place Wesker's goin' in a hurry? Something wrong?" He asked. 

The brunette quickly shook her head, green eyes wide.

"Oh, um, no. Hey..." She coughed and glanced at the bedroom door uncomfortably. "Did Sherry ever talk to you about, um. Getting tested? It's really important." God, she had hoped not to have to breach the topic, herself. Judging by Jake's blank look, it was necessary, though.

"For STDs," she clarified, hurrying through the sentence. Jake opened his mouth to reply, and she held up a hand to silence him. "NOT! That I think you have any. It's just to be on the safe side. Sherry gets tested, too. Th-the reason I'm talking about this is that, uh, I'm also going to have to test Piers. Right? You guys are together now?"

The redhead blushed faintly and glanced at the bedroom door like the inhabitants could be overhearing this somehow. In the tiny RV, it was actually a possibility. 

"Uh. Yeah, but we haven't..." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, looking quite uncomfortable. Rebecca felt a bit bad for him.

"You've kissed, though, right? Er. I'm not trying to be nosy, I swear — I'm a doctor," she said pleadingly, waving her hands. "A-any, uh, exchange of bodily fluids can spread disease."

Jake glanced at the bedroom door again and crossed his arms, frowning slightly. 

"Okay, I get the idea," he said, keeping his voice low. A little too low — almost a stage whisper. Rebecca tried not to giggle at that. 

"It's just peeing in a cup," she promised, hugging the tablet to her chest. "I'll just give you some of the cups and you guys can bring them back to me, uh, sometime soon. Okay?"

Staring at her like he was trying to decide if she was joking or not, the redhead gave her a thumbs up, his expression deadpan. 

"Yeah, okay." With that, he promptly headed over to the bedroom door — probably, Rebecca figured, to check whether Piers and Sherry were asleep or if there was a possibility they had been listening to this little talk.

She took a seat at Wesker's tiny lab station and went back to reading over the formulas on the tablet. There were some pretty creative changes in there. Still, she didn't like the idea of field testing this stuff with the entire RV as the test subject...  


* * *

  
By the time they left, it was mid morning. Leon had been picked to drive the RV so he wouldn't have to bounce around with all his cuts and bruises and Claire had opted to take his place in the jeep.

Wesker kept himself busy working on his tablet, occasionally glancing at Chris. Jake had retreated into the back bedroom again – leaving the two alone once more...with the exception of Rebecca.

With all the glancing, it was obvious that Wesker probably wanted to talk to Chris alone, but the brunette lingered on the seat by the door. There wasn't really anywhere else that she could go in a moving RV, when it came down to it.

After what seemed like a very long and heavy silence, Wesker turned to the short woman and gestured to his lab on the kitchen counter. 

“I've made a larger batch of your project.” He tapped the quart sized container lightly. “As soon as we reach the horde, we should apply a coat to the RV.”

"About that..." Rebecca stepped over to take a look at the container worriedly. "Don't you think we should test it first? On something a little less important than the RV?"

Chris glanced at them as they talked, reluctantly breaking his silence at last. 

"We should put it on the Jeep."

Rebecca stared at him, aghast. Well, he HAD just kind of made it sound like Billy and the Jeep were less important than them.

Wesker shrugged. 

“Perhaps something smaller. Me, for example.” He crossed his arms and looked at Chris. The cuts along the tall blond's arms had begun to heal already. His stomach was hidden under his sweater now, but it was a fair guess to think that it had healed as well. “If it doesn't work, I'll be able to escape with relative ease.”

"That's a bad idea," Chris said flatly. 

Wesker frowned. 

“No one else could survive it, why not?” He paced slowly over to where Chris was sitting. He didn't get too close though – keeping a good distance between the brunette and himself.

Chris looked back down at the table, frowning. 

"You're still recovering. You keep pushing it."

"His injuries are healing up," Rebecca offered, holding up a hand. "Um, last time I stitched up the second batch, the first ones were almost gone."

“Chris,” Wesker stepped a little closer. He kept his eyes down turned while he spoke very calmly. “This could be very useful. We could maintain a safe area. Make supply runs without using ammunition.” He turned partly back to Rebecca. “The sooner we test it, the better.”

"I understand what it could do. How exactly does it work, though? Does it only work on zombies?" Chris crossed his arms, resting them on the table in front of him. "If it can be put on a BOW, let's leave you out of this and put it on one we don't care about."

That had come out a bit harsher than intended. He didn't think of Wesker as 'a BOW', or even necessarily as inhuman, but technically that's what he was. Technicalities applied in scientific situations, unfortunately.

Rebecca crossed her arms, too, looking at Wesker. 

"Put it on a zombie? I don't know about that. If it's repelled by itself, how exactly does that work?" 

Wesker went back over to his lab, uncrossing his arms and resting his palms on the counter top. 

“We could put it on something else entirely, like a stick, and simply throw it into the swarm. No BOWs needed,” he added quietly.

"But zombies ignore sticks already," the little brunette pointed out worriedly. "How would we know it was working?"

Chris sighed and looked around at the somewhat battered living room area of the RV. There were gouge marks in the walls. Jake had cleaned the blood off, but there were definitely stains there.

Yeah, having the BOWs ignore them or run away would be a massive advantage. 

"Is it just for zombies?" He asked the others suddenly, looking up. "Will it bother you or Piers? What about Sherry?"

“I don't believe so, but since it hasn't been tested – I can't be certain,” Wesker said, turning back to face them. “A stick would soak up a significant amount of the formula – if it works as well as I believe it will, the zombies will want to leave the area immediately.” He finally met Chris's gaze, red eyes cold. 

The brunette got up from the table and started toward the front section. 

"I'll tell Leon to pull over."

How was it that every time he started thinking it was okay to relax and try to show how he felt about Wesker, something else got in the way? He wasn't even sure what it was this time, but neither of them seemed to want to talk. At all.

Leon was driving along quietly. He seemed very tired as he swerved slowly around a broken down car. The window was rolled down a small crack to let in the fresh air. They were far out of the city now and it was a welcome change from the dusty dead air of the narrow streets. 

It felt almost like fall was coming to an end and the crisp bite of winter was beginning to appear. The storm had steadied out to a soft drizzle and the occasional growl of thunder – keeping the sky a murky gray.

Noticing Chris as he came in, Leon gave a small wave. 

“Hey. You look pissed – was it something I did?” He quirked an eyebrow worriedly at his friend.

Closing the door to the front section of the RV, Chris sank into the passenger seat and sighed heavily. 

"No. We need to find a place to pull over."

Leon gave him another raised eyebrow and sighed. 

“Alright. Any specifics? A camp ground? Zombies, no zombies – a big open field?”

"Open space, at least a few zombies," Chris replied, bothered. Why was Wesker being so standoffish? One would have thought Chris showing concern for him was a sign that he didn't want him to go off and get himself killed...

“Ah,” Leon said knowingly. “Anger management. Is Wesker mad?” He looked at Chris again and smiled sheepishly. “He knows I'm not into you, right? Hate to break another rib...”

"I don't know," Chris admitted, sighing. He brought a hand up to rub at his forehead wearily. "He's keeping his distance all of a sudden. Or maybe I'm just worried about things and I'm interpreting it that way."

“How obsessive is he, exactly?” Leon glanced at him for a long moment, slowing the RV to a crawl. “He s-saw us hug – I really hope he's not planning on killing me.” The blond man grumbled, pulling off to the side of the road. 

There were a handful of undead milling around several blocks ahead of them near an old bus.

Turning the RV off, Leon shifted to face him more. “I'm definitely no expert, but maybe you should just ask him?” The blond shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe he's just pissed about Jake or something.”

Chris looked at him unhappily. 

"I can't have that conversation in front of everybody."

He got up from the seat and turned toward the door again.

Leon sighed and sat back in his chair. 

“I don't think you two are going to be alone for a long time – unless you insist.” He looked after Chris. “Call me if you need me. I'm going to stay here in case we need to leave in a hurry.” The blond didn't seem like he wanted to move. He was probably still in a lot of pain.

"I will," Chris said briefly, and headed back into the living room section. He didn't specify which of Leon's comments he was saying he would be doing. Maybe both. Wesker didn't take well to others insisting he do anything, in Chris's experience, though.

In the living room, Rebecca was peeking around the curtains at the landscape. 

"I see a few zombies out there..."

Wesker leaned up against the wall next to her, also peering out. 

“I'll go restrain one.” 

He went back to his lab and dug in a duffel bag on the floor, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and duct tape. As he stood back up, he saw Chris. Fixing the brunette with a blank expression, he ducked out of the door – calling behind him quickly, “Get the formula, Rebecca.”

"Right!" The petite woman picked up the container from the table and hurried after him. 

Chris followed them without comment. He wasn't sure how he could insist on getting Wesker alone when Wesker was always busy. Either busy or confined to a moving vehicle with multiple other people in the "room."


	33. Out of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually add notes on this story, but I wanted to apologize for the lengthy amount of time between updates. It's been a month of moving, changing computers (had to do a lot of password resets to get back into Ao3), copying my files around, etc. Updates will resume on a more regular basis while I have chapters left to post.
> 
> On that note, it's been ages since the original note on chapter one, but I wanted to remind everyone that this story is NOT FINISHED. =( I have a good number of chapters left to post, but sooner or later we'll all be left hanging. I wish that we had finished it when we wrote this a couple years ago, but unfortunately we did not. We had quite a bit of story arc planned and remaining to write. 
> 
> Maybe someday we will write the rest. In the meantime, there's at least another 50,000 words left to edit and post, and I will try not to make a cliffhanger the last thing I post. We're surprised and happy so many people are enjoying our story. We figured we'd post it rather than leaving it sit to collect dust on our computers, only ever read by us. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, and I hope you enjoy the upcoming chapters!

They had stopped moving. The abrupt absence of movement and silencing of the RV's engine pulled Jake from the nap he didn't remember choosing to take. 

He blinked sleepily and found himself looking at Piers, who was sitting up on the bed. Sherry was still sleeping quietly beside the redhead, who had draped an arm over her before drifting off to sleep. He'd wanted to lay down with Sherry — that much he remembered. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, though.

Obviously he had, though. The more immediate concern was why they had stopped.

Piers smiled softly at him before glancing around the room. 

“We stopped.” He looked back at Jake. “I can go check out why.” Slowly, he moved Sherry off of his side and slipped out of bed. He slung the rifle over his shoulder.

"Wait. Hey, don't go alone." Jake tried to keep his voice low, sitting up carefully and pulling the blanket over Sherry's shoulders. He slipped off of the side of the bed and followed Piers. 

When he reached the doorway, though, he stopped and glanced back. The RV had just stopped; there were no sounds of commotion outside, and everything seemed to be okay. Maybe he was being just a bit overprotective. It was hard not to be; he was worried that Piers was going to collapse or get a fever again anytime now.

But the little brunette seemed energetic as he headed across the living room, glancing around at his surroundings. He had been very out of it earlier and really took notice of all of the damage to the RV's interior.

He stopped and pulled open the front door, frowning at the constant drizzle outside.

“Well. I guess something's still the same.”

"Still raining?" Jake stepped quietly over to peek out the door beside him. Now that Piers wasn't so sick that he had to lean on people all the time, Jake wasn't sure what was okay to do as far as touching went. Could he hug Piers? Put an arm around his shoulders? Would Piers find that awkward?

Glancing down at the brunette, he asked as nonchalantly as he could, "So how are you feeling? You need anything?"

Piers stared back up at him. 

“I think I'm through the worst of it, actually.” Closing the door and crossing the room, he looked over Wesker's lab area with curious gray eyes. He sat up and looked around again. “I wonder where everyone went?”

"We stopped for some reason," Jake said, watching this. "They must be outside." He stepped over to the table, too, then glanced at the door to the front. "Doesn't seem like anybody left in a panic, but I am kinda wondering how long we'll be stopped for."

He looked at Piers again thoughtfully. "...You even look like you're better."

Again, the shorter man looked up at him, eyes reading his. After an eerily long moment, he looked away and shifted on his feet. 

“S-something's different.”

Jake looked away as well, feeling awkward. He nodded. 

"Yeah. It's good to see you on your feet, though."

He wondered if Piers thought that he wasn't interested now that Piers didn't need to be taken care of all the time. They hadn't exactly gotten a chance to get to know each other before the whole virus thing, after all. But it was even worse than that — now he still wanted to be close, but had no good excuse for being so. 

Piers looked around sadly and nodded. 

“Yeah.” He slowly moved his gaze back up to Jake, watching him as before. With a calm kind of curiosity.

He didn't seem bothered, at least. Jake looked at his pale eyes, noticing the fact that he no longer had marks on the right side of his face — not even faint ones. His cheeks weren't feverishly flushed, either. Jake brought a hand up to touch his cheek without thinking about it too much. 

"Look at you..."

Piers didn't flinch away from his hand – he just kept watching Jake, eyes scanning back and forth across the redhead's face. 

“I think I'm cured.”

"I wanna think so, too." Jake moved his hand from Piers' cheek to rest on the back of his neck. He could have probably gotten a kiss without any complaints, but instead he moved closer and rested his forehead against the brunette's, closing his eyes. 

But Piers hesitated, putting up a hand to press against Jake's chest. 

“Hey. Are YOU okay?” He slid his hand up to the younger man's shoulder and relaxed a bit.

The redhead opened his eyes again, but looked off to one side, brows pinching into a worried little frown. 

"Yeah, it's just...it's gonna get worse again before it gets better. He needs a full lab to make a cure that sticks, right?" 

He looked at Piers again and sighed.

The brunette suddenly smiled again. 

“Then I guess I better enjoy it while it lasts.” He patted Jake's shoulder. “Come on. Let's go outside.” Piers ducked past him and opened the door again. He watched the rain for a second and waved Jake over. “Just right outside. I don't want to leave Sherry alone for too long.”

Jake glanced after him before following. Looking on the bright side was something Sherry was good at, too. No wonder she and Piers seemed to get along so well.

"We're gonna get rained on," he warned, stepping up next to Piers at the door. 

“That's true – but it's worth it to get out of this RV for a few minutes,” he said as he hopped outside. 

Just behind the RV was the Jeep. Billy was sitting inside with the door propped open, keeping watch. He glanced at them in boredom and then went back to scanning the area around the vehicles.

Piers gave him a little wave – though it went unnoticed – before he started walking around the RV. They were on pavement for once; no mud to squelch through. The road was wet and cracked, though, leaving large pools of water for Piers to dodge around as he went.

Just out in front of the RV were Wesker, Chris and Rebecca. They were standing together near another car as if watching something. Wesker was knelt down, revealing a snapping zombie handcuffed to the car's fender.

Jake followed Piers, doing his best not to splash through the puddles. Rain was coming down as a light drizzle. He had just stepped up alongside Piers when he spotted the zombie and froze. 

"What the hell..." He frowned and crossed his arms.

“Captain!” Piers called as he went to Chris's side. Wesker turned to look over his shoulder at them, hair dripping in his face. He was still missing his sunglasses and looked none too pleased to see them.

Chris didn't look like he was in a very good mood, either. He turned in surprise when he saw Piers outside, though, stepping over to pat his shoulder. 

"Piers, what are you doing out here?" He glanced at Jake, who frowned back. It wasn't like Piers was locked in the RV — or delirious at the moment, either.

Piers gave him a determined nod and patted his arm. 

“We were wondering why we stopped, but...” He trailed off, leaning to glance at the zombie. “What are you guys doing?”

Wesker stood up, eying Piers with the same kind of interest that the little brunette had given Jake earlier. 

“Testing. How are you feeling?”

Piers moved closer to him, still looking at the snapping corpse. 

“What kind of testing?” He glanced at Rebecca next, vaguely wondering what she and Chris were doing helping Wesker with anything.

"We're about to find out if it's something or nothing," Rebecca said, pulling something out of the little bucket on the ground nearby. A...stick?

Jake stepped over and arched a brow at the zombie...and stick. 

"If you wanna kill him, that's gonna take awhile."

Wesker held his hand out to Rebecca. 

“Let me see it.”

The zombie seemed very riled up, probably from them standing so close by.

Piers took a step back, standing near Chris and Jake again.

Jake stepped back closer to Piers, still very dubious. 

"Okaaay..."

Rebecca handed the stick carefully to Wesker, looking very intent about it. 

The blond promptly knelt again, poking the stick at the zombie. The undead man snapped once at it and then went quiet, tipping back and forth slightly while it watched them. Then with a sharp gasp, it fell to the ground and attempted to crawl away under the car.

Wesker stood back up, dropping the stick at his feet. 

“Success.”

Piers' eyebrows rose. 

“You made zombie repellent?”

“No.” Wesker turned to face the group. “Rebecca did. I simply refined her formula.”

The little brunette blushed and shifted on her feet. 

"A lot. I-I never got them to run away before, just to ignore me. Let's see how long it lasts, though."

Wesker nodded. 

“I'll wait here – everyone else should go back inside. It isn't safe to leave Sherry alone,” he said, looking at the zombie as it wormed around under the car. 

“Right,” Piers agreed quickly. He reached out to pat Jake's shoulder. “Come on.”

Jake turned quickly and started back to the RV. 

"Okay..." He glanced at Piers and blushed a tiny bit. Seeing Rebecca reminded him of his conversation with her earlier. She picked up the bucket and ventured back toward the RV with them.  


* * *

  
Chris lingered behind when the others returned to the RV.

Wesker was turned away from him, watching the zombie with interest. The undead continued its efforts to escape, scraping bony fingers along the pavement as it crawled. The blond man crossed his arms and sighed.

Chris turned and looked out across the muddy landscape. Just asking him had sounded a lot easier when Leon was saying it. There was a long heavy silence punctuated by the zombie's scratching.

"We're probably not gonna be alone again for a long time, so if there's something you want to say, you should say it."

Wesker flinched, snapping around to face him. Had he really not noticed Chris was still there? The blond instantly looked calm again, shrugging off his reaction. 

“I...you should go back inside. There are still zombies around.”

"I'm not worried," Chris said flatly, turning back to Wesker. "...Are you mad at me for something?" 

Okay, maybe that was a little too blunt. He did want to know, though.

Wesker frowned. 

“No,” he replied shortly, moving closer. His voice softened. “Are you alright? You seemed upset earlier.”

Chris blinked and glanced back at the RV. Wesker had indeed seen his conversation with Leon earlier. 

"I just had to clear some things up," he said quietly. "With Leon. And now I need to be clear with you."

“By all means – be clear,” the tall man said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest again.

It started raining harder, pelting the hood of the car with the zombie. They could just barely make out the sounds of the RV's door closing. Now they really were alone.

Chris wrapped his arms around himself and looked up at the sky, trying to cram the things he was feeling into words somehow. All sorts of uneasiness was welling up in his chest, but Leon was right — he needed to just spit it out.

"I-it killed me to kill you," he said, feeling his breath catch in his throat. He swallowed and continued, "I regretted it, and Jill couldn't understand." 

He’d tried to confide in Jill after the Uroboros incident in Africa. Told her that he couldn’t come to terms with Wesker’s death — admitted that he’d loved the man since their days in STARS, and somehow, somehow he felt like they could have saved him instead of doing what they’d done. 

It had been stupid — she’d felt betrayed, and hadn’t spoken to him since. He HAD betrayed her, in a way, choosing the ghost of Wesker over her and all of the trauma she was recovering from at the time. Chris still couldn’t blame her for how she’d reacted. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut for her sake? He’d had no idea he would ever speak to Wesker again at the time.

Like he was trying to do now. Wesker moved closer to Chris, dropped his hands to his sides. 

“You shouldn't have regretted it.” He gently grabbed the large man's arms. “If you hadn't killed me, I would never have had this.” Wesker slipped his arms under Chris's, pulling him into a hug. “Had you.”

The brunette slowly put his arms around Wesker as well, shivering. The rain was cold. So was Wesker.

“I-I didn't know that back then,” he said softly. “You were just gone. W-we'd wasted all the time we got, and everybody else was celebrating something that...hurt so much.” He hugged tighter, hiding his face against the taller man's neck and drawing a slow breath. 

“I—” Wesker cut himself off, voice straining to stay calm. At last he took a breath and trailed a hand tightly over Chris's shoulders to hold him near. “I only ever told William that I l-loved you.” He lowered his voice as he spoke, back stiffening like his words might be received badly. The blond breathed quietly again to steady himself before continuing.

“He told me that I was being a fool – that you would never return my feelings and that telling you would only turn your life into a bargaining chip for Umbrella to control me.” He pulled away to look down at Chris with sad red eyes. 

“Spencer must have known. He told me to kill YOU, in particular. It was a test. A test that I failed.” Cold hands slid down Chris's back as the man in his arms suddenly grew tense. He seemed very uncomfortable as he spoke. It was unlikely that he had ever told anyone about it.

Chris looked at him, blinking a few too many times. His eyes were stinging, but this was no time to have a stupid breakdown — it had happened. Wesker had stood here and said that he loved him — that he’d always loved him. Back in his naive younger days in STARS, he'd fantasized about that happening a few times, but over the years he'd given up on it. Especially once Wesker 'died.' There was no chance left, he had to let that part of his life go. But he couldn't.

"Well, he's gone," he said quietly. "And William's gone. But you and me are still here, and I-I don't want to waste anymore time."

Wesker stared down at him for a long moment. The rain trickled down his face, dripping from his chin. It would be easy to assume that the slim blond was crying – but that had only ever happened once before, when he believed that he had killed Chris. He blinked, drops rolling from his eyes.

“Me neither – so I'm just going to be honest.” He drew in a sharp breath, but failed to even out his voice as he spoke. “I love y-you and I'll spend every moment I'm here k-keeping you safe.” Wesker lowered his eyes to look away – anywhere but at Chris. “And I don't care if you want me to or not.”

Chris placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at him again. 

"I want that," he said simply, and mustered a small smile. "I-I want all of that."

'I want you', he wanted to add, but his throat felt tight. It wasn't just some obsession. It wasn't some strange fixation that had been going on for so long that they'd called it romantic. He'd known that it was love he felt from the day he met Wesker, and any time he hadn't thought so was just him lying to himself to get by.

Wesker leaned against his palm. He was still ice cold to the touch, and the rain certainly didn't help. His pale skin felt clammy. He didn't smile or nod or agree in any way – instead hugging Chris tightly again.

Chris put his arms around the blond again and held him tightly as well, pressing his face against the side of the taller man's neck. He wished that he had something better to say. He wanted to say he was in love, too, but the words stuck in his throat. 

This was overwhelming. Wesker loved him — he'd said it, he really did. And he wasn't going to leave. The drops rolling down his face weren't just rain, Chris realized. Thank god the rain was there to hide the tears.

Wesker held him very tightly in return, almost too tightly. He was very quiet and still, as if moving would scare the brunette away. The rain continued to drizzle on their heads. While it was cold, it also felt strangely soothing. The storm stirring above them felt far away while they stood arm in arm.

The thunder grumbled as Chris suddenly realized that the blond was perfectly still in his arms.

He held his breath and waited a few seconds, heart thudding loudly in his chest. Wesker wasn’t breathing. Nothing. Nothing? He patted the taller man's back, sitting up enough to get a good look at his face. 

"Wesker?"

The blond's eyes were half closed as if he was half asleep and his arms slid stiffly off of Chris's sides when the brunette moved – his head falling back limply. The only reason he was still standing was that Chris was holding him up.

The zombie under the car growled, bony fingers sliding back out to claw at the stick numbly. The repellent had worn off.

It was still handcuffed, though, so Chris ignored it. Shifting how he was holding Wesker, he moved both arms to wrap around the blond's waist and shoulders and lowered him to the ground, leaving a good distance between them and the car. Then he felt for a pulse. Even without breathing, there could be a pulse. Did Wesker normally have a pulse, though?

Complete stillness. No pulse.

The sound of a car door caught Chris's attention right before he heard hurried steps coming toward him.

Leon was suddenly knelt at his side, looking Wesker over critically. 

“What's wrong?”

Chris was already starting chest compressions. 

"He's not breathing," he managed to say. It sounded distant to him, like he was hearing somebody else say it. This wasn't happening, was it? Why? Wesker couldn't die, not again.

“Chris.” Leon placed a hand on his back gently. “I-I don't think that will help.” He looked down at Wesker again. 

The zombie under the hood snarled at them – rotted fingers reaching hopelessly for Wesker's arm.

"He was fine a minute ago!" Chris grabbed the front of Wesker's shirt, dragging him further away from the zombie — and the car. He turned the blond's face toward him and patted his cheek, his fingers cold and numb from the rain. "H-he was fine..." 

He tested for a pulse again, and again came up with nothing. He'd just told Wesker how he couldn't cope with him being gone, and now he was gone again.

“Let's get him inside,” Leon said quietly, glancing around. He moved around to the other side of the blond and pulled his arm over his shoulders.

Numbly, Chris moved to help him. He could feel himself slipping into shock, but there was no way to make the situation better, was there? 

And he still couldn't figure out why. Was Wesker dying before? Had he said all of those things so frankly because he didn't have much time left? He'd been injured so badly in the past few days that even his accelerated healing had been struggling, but if being stabbed by chunks of car metal didn't kill him, no regular injury would. 

A volcano hadn't — even molten lava hadn't killed him, and for all intents and purposes, this conversation with Chris somehow had done it instead. 

Billy hopped out of the jeep when they came into view, coming over to open the RV's door for them.

“What's going on?” He quietly asked as they passed.

Piers, who had been sitting at the dinette with Sherry, jumped to his feet. 

“What happened? Is h-he okay?” He hurried to them, hands outstretched in case Wesker fell forward. 

The little blond woman gasped at the sight, sliding out of her seat too. 

Jake poked his head out of the kitchen at the small commotion being made. Catching sight of his father being carried inside, he frowned and sat down the dish he'd been holding, stepping out into the living room area. 

"He collapse again?"

Chris didn't reply to any of them. He looked a bit pale. He and Leon carried Wesker over next to the dinette table and laid him carefully on his back there on the floor. 

“No, he's actually...” Leon trailed off, letting go of Wesker. He looked the blond over and frowned almost sadly. “I think he's dead.”

Piers sat on the floor next to Wesker, taking the man's hand and feeling along his arm for a pulse. Sherry lingered by Jake and hugged herself.

“Is that even possible?”

Chris sat slowly on the dinette seat bench, still stunned. 

"He was fine," he muttered.

Jake glanced at Sherry, then back to Wesker. He headed over to kneel beside Piers, feeling his father's neck for any pulse as well. The blond was absolutely cold and lifeless — how, when he'd seemed perfectly fine fifteen minutes ago, was another question.

"We were just talking to him." He glared at Wesker, like dying was something he'd done intentionally, and slapped him across the face.

Piers grabbed Jake's hand to stop him, gray eyes tearful. 

“Stop – don't! Please.” He looked sadly back at Wesker. The blond's eyes were staring off into nowhere – blank and dead. His face was frozen in a pained expression.

Sniffing, Piers turned and hugged Jake tightly.

Seeing this, Leon patted Chris's leg and tried his best to reassure his friend. 

“Come on. He'll probably recover. Maybe it's from the injury earlier – he hasn't exactly been resting.”

Chris put his head in his hands, bracing his elbows on the table. 

"I-I told him we wasted so much time...fighting..." 

He couldn't believe that this was it. Maybe Wesker had been injured all along — maybe the damage done when Chris 'killed' him had never fully gone away. Maybe it was still him cutting their time short, whether he'd tried to this time or not.

A bit surprised at Piers' reaction, Jake wrapped an arm around him and sighed. 

"Sorry." He reached over and closed his father's eyes with the other hand. If he could afford that much respect to bodies of complete strangers, he could manage it for Wesker. Looking up at Chris and Leon, he asked grimly, "What happened to him?"

“He just fell over, right?” Leon said, looking up at Chris. He could tell the brunette was losing it. Unknown to the two, Leon had watched the entire conversation – though he couldn't hear any of their words. He turned back to Wesker and shook his head. “Where's Rebecca?”

Piers turned in Jake's arms to stare at Wesker, tears escaping down his cheeks. He just sat there, shaking and watching the blond's body.

“I'll get her.” Billy nodded and ducked back outside. Claire and Rebecca were probably in the jeep.

"Yeah," Chris said, in reply to Leon's question. He said nothing else, just that. He felt sick. He'd never said it back — 'I love you'. If Wesker could manage to say it, he damned well could have, and now they had no time left. 

Jake brought one hand up to rest gently on Piers' hair, shading over his eyes. 

"Don't look, okay? Trust me," he sighed. It actually really bothered him to see Wesker this way, and he wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he was fond of his father, or had even spent much time with him. Piers must like him for some reason, though.

Leon stood up and paced to look out the door. 

Sherry sat down next to Jake, patting Piers' arm gently. She looked like she might cry too – but it was most likely just because Piers was crying.

Leon sat dejectedly back by Wesker, eyebrows pinching. 

“He wanted to stay out there with...you don't think he – he...” The ex-agent glanced up at Chris. “Did he find a way to kill himself?”

Chris looked at him finally, a very pained look. 

"He didn't want to die anymore. H-he wanted to stay with me," he whispered. "He just told me so."

Jake looked up as the door to the RV opened. Rebecca stepped inside with her medical bag, almost apprehensive of what she'd see. When she spotted Wesker, she put a hand over her mouth, her brows pinching sadly. 

Claire's mouth dropped open as well at Wesker laying lifeless on the floor. Covering her mouth with a hand, she hurried to her brother. 

“Chris...I'm so sorry.” She squeezed his shoulder and stared down at the scientist in shock.

Piers sat up a bit, but thought better of it and stayed in Jake's arms. The redhead pulled him halfway onto his lap, making room for Rebecca to examine Wesker without really having to move. 

While the petite brunette put her bag down and knelt to look, Chris moved a hand up over Claire's and squeezed it tightly.

"He was fine, a-and then he was gone," he said a bit hoarsely. "I-I don't know what happened."

His sister bit her lip. 

“Were you guys still out by that zombie?”

“What if he was just buying time?” Leon still wasn't convinced that the death was an accident. He shifted to look up at Chris sadly. “He wouldn't have been able to reverse it – he had already been working on the repellent for hours.”

Wesker still had no signs of life as far as Rebecca could tell. It seemed like he was actually dead.

"We were out there, yeah." Chris directed sad brown eyes at Leon and shook his head. "No. No. H-he meant what he said." 

"We weren't sure whether the formula would affect anything but regular zombies..." Rebecca sat up and grabbed Wesker's tablet from the little lab table, then rummaged in her bag. Jake watched her pull a syringe out, draw blood from his father's arm, and put the sample into the tablet, a frown on her face the whole time.

"If the formula's the problem, it's not poison, though — it wears off. At least it's supposed to..."

“It wears off of regular zombies. Wesker said that he made it much stronger,” Leon offered, touching Wesker's cheek with the back of his hand lightly. “I-I don't know. He seems pretty dead...”

Piers sat up from Jake and reached up to put a hand on Chris's arm too. 

Leon noticed it and cleared his throat. 

“Sorry.” He gestured across the room. “I'll get him a blanket.” Slowly getting up, he went to rummage for anything that wasn't pink or coated in flowers. Even dead, he figured Wesker might not appreciate it.

Chris glanced down at Piers, but then turned back to the table sadly. He put a hand to his forehead, covering his eyes, and took some deep breaths. Wesker hadn't wanted to die anymore. If the repellent had done it, it must have done it by accident.

"Let me run some more tests first," Rebecca told Leon without looking up from the tablet, poking at the screen with her fingertips. The device was analyzing the blood sample and comparing it to her formula for the zombie repellent, but...Wesker's blood had more than one virus in it, and they were somehow all working together. Could the formula repel ALL of them? Could it suppress the virus part of him and let the human part die?

Leon returned and gently spread a dark blue blanket with little yellow duckies over Wesker, moving the blond's arms to tuck him in. 

The blood sample seemed to be diminishing quickly. And as she predicted, the viruses were outliving the human cells. Within moments of placing the sample inside the computer, the human cells were starting to die.

Rebecca glanced from the tablet to Wesker worriedly. "If the formula did this, it's not behaving how we expected," she said uneasily. "The viruses are all still there, they're just not sticking to his original human cells anymore. The viruses are what kept him alive, so without them..." 

She bit her lip, turning back to the tablet to check what levels of the repellent formula were found in Wesker's blood. They hadn't thought to make a cure for the repellent — who would need to cure zombies?

Piers let go of Chris and sank back to Jake, wrapping his arms around the redhead – burying his face in his shoulder. 

“No, n-no.”

Sherry moved closer and hugged Jake, petting Piers' back.

“You mean he's really dead?” Leon asked very quietly, leaning to look her in the eye. He glanced back down at Wesker in confusion. How did that zombie survive if Wesker didn't? Were the more powerful viruses more sensitive to the repellent?

The medic looked up at him unhappily. 

"Yes. Right now, yes. Captain Wesker's got a special blood type, though..." She glanced at Jake, who glanced back with a small frown. "I-I think the viruses are all repelled by the formula at a cellular level — once the repellent's out of his system, they might bond back to his cells. If they don't break down first."

She looked down at the tablet. With how fast those human cells had died off, they didn't have time to just wait until the formula wore off. "...Maybe if we dilute it. Maybe a transfusion."

“From Jake,” Piers said suddenly, sitting up to look at her. He turned slowly to stare at Jake, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Would t-that even work?”

Jake wiped some of the tears away with his thumb, shrugging one shoulder. 

"Hey, we've got nothin' to lose. I'll do it."

Rebecca hurriedly got out another syringe and reached for his arm. Jake rolled up his sleeve and sat quietly while she drew blood as quickly as possible, doing a good job of not looking like it hurt even though that was a very large needle.

Without hesitation, she turned and injected it into Wesker's arm. Same blood type — in theory, it should have helped dilute the amount of the repellent in Wesker's blood. An actual transfusion would have been better, but they didn't have the equipment here.

Jake stuck his arm out. "You're probably gonna need more than that."

Piers slapped a hand over the redhead's arm. 

“Are you sure you can recover?”

"I'm okay," Jake assured him. "This's nothing, you should see how much they took when I was in China." 

Rebecca readied the syringe again, nodding. 

"One or two more at the most."

“Hey,” Leon said, holding up a hand to silence the small brunette. “Something's happening.”

The arm that Rebecca had injected with Jake's blood tensed. Wesker's head lulled to one side slowly – his fingers closing.

Gently, Leon pressed two fingers to the scientist's neck to check for a pulse. He frowned after a few seconds and shook his head. 

“Nothing. I don't—”

Straining suddenly, Wesker's mouth formed a grimace – sucking air in. Then the arm Rebecca had been holding yanked free from her grasp to clutch Leon's hand in a crushing grip.

Leon flinched and tried to pry free. “Easy, calm down!”

Breathing raggedly, the blond on the floor coughed. His whole body struggled with the motion. Leon patted his captured hand instead, frowning. At his touch, Wesker's eyes fluttered open hazily. His...blue eyes.


	34. Blue

Jake had pushed Piers behind him out of reflex, and was staring at his father like he might suddenly leap and attack somebody. 

"That actually worked? Jesus, maybe I am a cure-all," he muttered in disbelief. 

Rebecca placed a hand on Wesker's forehead, using the other to pat the hand he still had wrapped around Leon's in a death grip. 

"C-Captain Wesker? Can you hear me?" 

Before the blond had a chance to reply, Chris was at his other side, grabbing his free hand and squeezing it tightly. He couldn't really say anything — there was a big lump in his throat. Wesker wasn't dead. He had been, but somehow he was back. 

Wesker stared up at him, blinking slowly like he was in a mental fog. 

“Chris.” Looking dizzily around at the people over him, the blond dropped Leon's hand and pulled his hand away from Chris – crawling backwards on the floor until his back was against the wall. He slumped there, rubbing his head.

Leon scooted to face him and waved. 

“Welcome back.”

Wesker scowled at him woozily but didn't comment. His eyes kept drifting closed.

Chris stared after him, struggling not to lose it and break down in front of everyone. He'd barely been holding it together before as it was. Wesker's eyes looked blue — was he just wishing that they were? How was that possible?

Rebecca waved the others away from the blond and approached him slowly, kneeling beside him. 

"Just take it easy, now. I've got to check on you," she told him, reaching to feel his wrist. If he was moving around like this with no pulse, that would be pretty alarming.

Leon moved back to give them some space, hovering near Sherry and Jake.

Wesker let Rebecca examine him. He still seemed to be in a daze – his crystal blue eyes scanning the room hazily.

“What h-happened?” He managed at last, looking at the small brunette beside him.

She felt his wrist, a serious little frown on her face. 

"You fixed my formula too well, that's what. It made the viruses in your blood unbond from the human cells," she informed him, stooping to pull a penlight out of the medical bag. "You were dead for a little while, there. Here, look at me." She held up the penlight, all business.

He was talking. Chris had had some small fear in the back of his mind that it looked like Wesker, but that his mind wasn't in there anymore. It certainly sounded like him, although he seemed very stunned.

And his eyes still looked blue.

With a growl, Wesker turned his face away – moving her hand back. 

“I'm alright – leave me be.” He shifted to slump lower on the wall. His breathing still wasn't up to par. 

"Did you not hear me? You were just DEAD," Rebecca told him sternly. "If you and Jake didn't have the same blood type, you'd probably still be dead."

At long last, Wesker looked up at Chris again. Then, slowly, around at all the other people watching him. Everyone was just standing there like he was an exhibit. His eyes stopped on Jake.

“You said...” He frowned and turned back at Rebecca. “You said that the cells in my blood unbound? Fascinating.”

Taking that as some kind of cue, Leon came over and sat back down by Rebecca. 

“Yes – then you died. Got any more of that stuff?” He added thoughtfully. Chris noted that his friend's hand was perched on his pistol. Probably just to be safe.

"Yes — and without the virus cells in them, your human cells were dying fast," Rebecca answered him, giving Leon a frown. She put down the pen light, reaching for the syringe again. "I had to inject you with Jake's blood. I really need to take another sample from you now and see what changed." 

Chris pushed himself to his feet and stepped over near them as well. He still didn't trust himself to talk, and let them have their conversation, but he couldn't look away from Wesker for a second. They should really get him off of the floor. 

“YOU won't be doing anything to me – I'll examine myself.” The blond pushed stiffly off of the floor, sliding up the wall to stand on his feet. Leon moving closer seemed to unsettle him. There was a surprising amount of emotion on his face. Pain. Confusion. …Fear.

Leon stood up as well, holding out an arm in case Wesker toppled over. 

“We're just trying to help, asshole.”

Wesker's eyes flicked down to the other blond's hand on his gun. 

“So you say.”

Wordlessly, Chris moved over and offered his hand. Everyone was still staring. It was hard not to blame them, but Wesker would be more comfortable if they went away somewhere. Even just into the bedroom and closed the door. He didn't want to be out here, either.

Rebecca sighed and decided to back off for now. Wesker was responsive and had had a pulse when she tested for it, so for now she was satisfied. The 'how' factor would just have to wait.

The blond took Chris's hand gladly, sliding an arm over the muscular man's shoulders. 

Leon stepped aside to let them past. 

“So I guess we're staying here for awhile. The road's still packed with zombies.”

Piers stood up – having been watching the whole scene unfold – and came over to Chris and Wesker. 

“Do you need help or...?” He looked torn between helping and letting them have a few moments alone.

Chris ignored him, leading Wesker quickly through the bedroom door and closing it behind them. He'd apologize later. 

As soon as the door was between them and the rest of the group, the brunette turned and hugged Wesker tightly, crying. 

"Y-you're...you were..."

Startled, Wesker hugged him in return. He ran his hands gently along Chris's back in an attempt to calm him. The blond man leaned against him and sighed. 

“I'm sorry that you had to go through that.” Placing a hand on the back of Chris's neck, he kissed the large man's cheek and closed his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he added in a whisper.

Chris hugged him tighter, pressing his cheek to the blond man's and drawing several shaky breaths. He didn't blame Wesker — as he'd thought, the man hadn't tried to kill himself this time. 

"I-I love you," he whispered in return, closing his eyes. Both of them were still chilled and soaked from the rain, and the tears felt hot on his face. "I th-thought I wouldn't get to tell you. I love you, I've loved you f-for so long..." 

He rested his forehead against the taller man's shoulder, wishing he could put it into words better. He'd been carrying this around for years — so many years. What he'd thought was some silly crush back in STARS had turned out to be anything but.

Wesker wrapped his arms over Chris's neck, nodding slightly. 

“And I love you – ever since we met.” His voice was anything but steady as they stood there arm in arm. He took a slow shaky breath and continued, “I wasted so much time running from it. Hurt you so much. I wish your dreams were real...” He added hauntingly.

Chris drew back enough to look up at him, blinking away more tears and checking the blond's eye color one more time. Just to be sure.

Wesker stared down at him – blue eyes glossy. His cheeks were also streaked with tears. He moved a hand to Chris's jaw, trailing his chin with a thumb. “Are you alright?” The tall man asked softly.

Chris turned his face to kiss the hand resting there, still sniffling a little. 

"I-if you are, I will be. You're not...really back to normal," he admitted, looking up into those clear blue eyes again. Exactly the same shade as Jake's — or rather, Jake's were the same color as his father's.

“I'm fairly certain that the C-virus will reconnect to my cells in time. This actually may be a step closer to the cure,” the blond said gently, blue eyes still locked on Chris. “Being able to selectively regenerate cells is very useful. Between the repellent and Jake's blood, I'm convinced that I can create a cure when we reach the mountains.” He leaned his forehead against Chris's and sighed. “But that can all wait for now.”

The brunette brought a hand up to touch his face, feeling like crying all over again. 

"Y-your eyes are blue." He didn't care if Wesker ever cured himself — he was alive, and he understood why, so he could stay alive.

A cold hand was placed over his as Wesker frowned. 

“What?” He broke away from Chris and looked for a mirror. There was a large one hanging on the wall beside the closet so he stepped in front of it quickly. The blond man froze – staring at himself in shock.

He had been infected before the mansion incident. It had been over a decade and a half since he had probably seen his original eye color.

Chris turned and sat on the side of the bed, wrapping his arms around himself. 

"Is that bad?"

“Just unexpected,” Wesker replied, turning away from the mirror to pace. He paused to examine his arms where the regenerators had cut. Luckily, they had healed. “Jake's blood is much stronger than I predicted. It may take a few hours for it to wear off.” He sat down next to Chris and took his hand without further comment.

Chris squeezed his hand, looking at him wearily. He was sure he'd looked exhausted even before the tears, but they couldn't be helping. 

"What happens when it wears off? Will you be okay?" He asked quietly.

Wesker nodded. 

“I believe so.” 

But he didn't sound convinced. He leaned over and rested his head on Chris's shoulder lightly. “This doesn't feel real to me. Perhaps I'm still unconscious.” He glanced around suspiciously.

"You'd think you'd dream of somewhere better for us," Chris joked tiredly, rubbing at one of his eyes. He glanced down at Wesker and added quietly, "If you even dream about me."

“I rarely sleep.” Pulling Chris's arm over him, Wesker slid up against his side – not unlike the blue eyed Wesker of his dreams had done so many times. He rested a cold hand on the brunette's chest and hugged him with the other. “You told me that you dreamed about us – and that it continued. Is it still going? How are the kids?” He asked curiously.

It felt so much like the dream Wesker who was asking, looking at him with those blue eyes, that Chris was almost disoriented. He studied the blond's face thoughtfully. 

"They're good...it's you I'm usually worried about. You thought I was cheating on you last time," he said, bemused.

Wesker's eyebrows lowered into a scowl. 

“With who?” He seemed surprisingly offended for something that had only happened in a dream.

Chris glanced down at him and blinked, patting his shoulder. 

"I wasn't, you just thought so," he emphasized. "You're gone at work a lot, and that's the reason you figured I ended up with the spare house key that was in your locker at work." He frowned, remembering the actual reason. 

“Hm,” Wesker said shortly, hugging his other arm around Chris. After a long thoughtful pause, he asked, “Are we still happy?”

"We want to be," Chris sighed. "No, we are, when we get to see each other and we stop stressing for a few minutes." He frowned, putting both arms around the blond man. "It's strange, you'd think I would dream about a perfect life, but it's not."

Wesker kissed Chris's cheek again. 

“I have a theory about that, actually.” But he didn't add to that statement, instead laying his head back on to Chris's shoulder. Like he had a few days ago in the mall, the blond seemed to have dropped the wall he usually kept up around others. 

"I'm sure you do." Chris was content not to talk much. He was just relieved that Wesker wasn't dead. 

The others were probably still sitting outside waiting for him or Wesker to emerge, but he didn't want to go out there, either. Just sitting here sounded nice — just him and Wesker, nobody else in the world. He moved a hand up to smooth the blond man's hair gently back from his face.

"...Can we lay down?" Wesker asked softly, relaxing against Chris. “The effects haven't quite worn off yet.”

The brunette reluctantly stopped hugging him and moved to help him lay down. 

"Of course. You've gotta take it easy," he said quietly. Neither of them had slept the night before, but he was almost afraid of going to sleep right now. Wesker hadn't sounded sure that he would be okay once the formula wore off. What if Chris woke up and he was...

Laying back, Wesker pulled Chris along with him – settling both of them onto their sides. He scooted against the brunette, hugging him tightly around the waist. 

“Have pleasant dreams, Chris,” he said dramatically with a slight smile on his lips. The scientist closed his eyes at last. He looked so peaceful – so unlike the Wesker he had been fighting for years. 

Maybe, just maybe, they could find some kind of happiness.  


* * *

  
After all the panic, it took awhile for everyone to realize that Chris and Wesker weren't coming back. Billy eventually went back outside to keep watch in the jeep. Chris's sister also went to keep watch from the front of the RV, giving both Sherry and Piers hugs before she went.

The little brunette had blushed and retreated to the table again as soon as she was gone. Sherry joined him, hugging an arm over his shoulder.

“I wonder if that means Wesker's human?” She asked the room in general.

Leon paced, casting nervous glances at the bedroom door. 

“Not sure.”

"I still can't believe that actually worked." Jake stepped over to sit on the dinette bench opposite Piers and Sherry. He frowned and folded his arms in front of him on the table, glancing up at the two. 

It bothered him that they both looked obviously like they had been crying. If Wesker had hit himself with that formula on purpose, Jake was going to give him a piece of his mind. 

"Only because you have the same blood type," Rebecca murmured, not looking up from the tablet.

Leon suddenly crossed the room, kneeling to dig through some boxes. He pulled out several push lights. Pressing a few on and off, he got back up. The blond waved at the table. 

“I'm going to go set these up. If we're staying here, we need to be able to see.”

“Can I help?” Piers asked, getting up. He went over to Leon and stared up at him. “Please?”

“Um...” Leon glanced from him to Jake and back. Piers had made it very clear since he arrived that he didn't like Leon. First with avoiding him, then with hiding behind Jake every time he came by. He must have wanted to go outside very badly.

Judging by the blond man's expression, he thought it was weird at least. 

“I guess?” He said at last.

Jake was over by Piers before anybody could even see him stand up. 

"Whoa, hold it. Isn't the stuff that poisoned Wesker out there?" He put a hand on Piers' shoulder like he might go dashing out the door without warning.

“The repellent?” Leon asked, frowning at the sudden appearance of the redhead. “Yeah, but I'll move it into a compartment or something.” He nodded to Piers as he stepped out of the door. 

“I can just sit on the top of the…” The short soldier watched sadly as the door closed. “…RV.”

Sherry rested her head on the table and sighed. It really was beginning to seem like they were always the three left inside...aside from Rebecca. 

Jake frowned at the door and put an arm around Piers' shoulders. 

"If there's any chance you could get poisoned, you shouldn't go out there." He wondered why Piers wanted to go outside, anyway. It sounded like he just wanted to get away from being in this little room anymore. Jake couldn't blame him there.

Rebecca picked the tablet up, stepping toward the door as well. 

"I-I'll see if I can tell whether it's worn off out there or not."

She stepped out after Leon, closing the door behind her.

Seeing her go, Piers turned and hugged Jake tiredly. 

“Yeah, I know. I just thought that I could keep watch. Snipe things. Be useful,” he added with scowl.

Sherry smiled as she watched them, her eyes drifting open and closed sleepily.

The redhead blinked and put both arms around Piers, rubbing his back. 

"When there's something around to snipe, it's all yours," he promised. "But there's nothing out there right now." He glanced over at Sherry, noticing her nodding off. "Let's pull out the second bed for Super Girl over there."

With a 'hm?' Sherry's head snapped up and she shook it. 

“No. I'm fine. I've probably gotten the most sleep out of all of us,” she said, rubbing her cheek. Piers went over to her side. 

“You're the only one who's pregnant.”

She blushed. 

“Still. Jake – how long has it been since you slept?”

Jake looked over at the two of them and shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. 

"Awhile." He didn't want to sleep. He couldn't keep an eye on everything if he slept. 

“Well,” Sherry stood up and smiled sweetly, “why don't we fold out the bed for YOU? Piers and I can keep watch!” She gestured to the two of them, and Piers nodded.

“Like you just said – there aren't any zombies outside right now.”

Jake crossed his arms and remained across the room. He wasn't sure if he was worried more about them jumping him or somebody going out the door if he didn't have his back to it, but this whole idea made him uneasy.

"I couldn't fall asleep right now if I tried. Somebody's gotta guard you two." With Wesker out of commission, Jake considered himself the most formidable person any intruders would have to fight; even with guns, Leon and Billy and Claire were only human.

“Jake, we'll be right here.” Sherry patted the bench. “We're not going to leave the second you fall asleep.

Piers' eyes shifted slightly, but he nodded. 

“We can wake you up if we hear something.” He circled to stand next to Sherry – both staring Jake down.

The RV door pushed open again.

Jake stepped aside and turned to look at it quickly, frowning. 

Leon blinked back at him, looking at the two height challenged people across the room. 

“Hey.” He held up a hand in case Jake got the idea he might try something. “The repellent's in the trunk.”

"Yeah, but it's probably still in the air," the redhead muttered, turning and stepping across the room back over to Sherry and Piers. They were both standing there staring at him still, and despite his better judgment, he sank down to sit on the bench and sighed.

Sherry happily spread a blanket over his shoulders, patting him. 

“I'm going to see if there's something other than yams around here.” The blond cheerily went to rummage and Piers followed her.

Leon watched the scene with mild amusement before joining Jake by the table. Leaning on his elbows, he cleared his throat. 

“The lights are up.” He went back across the room and put on a large coat and tucked several blankets under his arms. “I'll take first watch, in case someone asks.”

Jake hugged the blanket closer around him and glanced at the door, abruptly uncomfortable. He knew what Leon must be thinking whenever the blond saw him and Sherry and Piers together now. 

"Okay. Careful, that test zombie's probably still under the car."

“Yeah, found him earlier,” Leon said sheepishly as he ducked back out the door.

The only sound in the RV after he left was the clunking of cans and the whispered conversation between Sherry and Piers.

Jake had to wonder what they were whispering about. They got along so well — both of the people he loved got along. What were the chances of that? He didn't really want to even risk falling asleep, but they really seemed to want him to rest, so he moved to lay down on the fold-out bed and arrange the blanket over himself.

There was a pause in their conversation as he moved – followed by soft chuckling. Piers got up and started gently scooting Wesker's lab to make space on the counter top while the blond woman started ferrying cans. They seemed like they were amused for the moment.

Jake folded an arm up to rest his head on, watching this. It was a relief to see Piers feeling better and being able to move around, but at the same time, he was a little worried about it. He couldn't follow the sniper around and protect him all the time this way. He could get away with it with Sherry because she was pregnant, so the rest of the group was just as overprotective as he was, but not so much with Piers.

He thought about the coat and blankets Leon had been carrying and frowned. Winter was closing in. If they were traveling in the mountains during that kind of weather, it would be even more dangerous. He knew firsthand that ice and snow didn't slow J'avo down any...  


* * *

  
The living room. Chris was standing in the living room. The whole world spun when he looked around. He was back in the dreamscape again. 

“Voooooooom!” A tiny Piers said sternly, spinning his little helicopter around among a pile of toys. “Hurry!” He lowered it as he spotted Chris. “Hi dad!” The four year old dashed over and hugged his leg – which made Chris tip a little from being off balance.

He was drunk again.

He hadn't actually slept in awhile; being back in the dream world was disorienting enough even without the off-kilter senses. As steadily as he could, he reached down and patted little Piers' head. 

"Hi, Piers. Where's daddy at?" Oh, great, he could think things clearly but was slurring them slightly aloud. What time of day was it? had he been out drinking with Leon again?

“Him and Sherry's daddy are in his office,” the little boy said cutely, undisturbed by the slur. He pointed with his good arm toward the hallway.

Chris ruffled his hair and smiled. 

"Okay. I'm gonna go say hi to them, too." He waited for Piers to let go of him, not trusting himself not to wobble or push too hard if he tried to gently detach the kid from his leg.

Birkin was here, in the house? After sneaking in twice in the middle of the night like some creep, Wesker actually let him in?

Piers went back to playing, swooping the Apache over a setup of Little Brick houses. 

“Bam bam!”

The hallway was quiet. The door at the end – Wesker's office – was shut, but light came out from under the edge.

Chris stepped down the hallway as quietly as he could — which was surprisingly easy since the floor was carpeted — keeping a hand hovered near the wall the whole time in case he lost his balance and had to lean on it. 

He had no idea what he was going to say to them, but he just couldn't sit back and relax while Birkin was in his house. Not after last time — hell no. He didn't go storming into the room, but he didn't knock, either — he just grabbed the doorknob and opened the door, standing there in the doorway with a frown.

Inside the office, Birkin was perched on the desk and Wesker was in front of a laptop. He placed a hand on it and closed the lid. 

“Chris?”

Birkin glanced up too, blue eyes widening at the sight of him in the door.

Chris stared at them flatly for a moment, then crossed his arms and scowled. 

"Why th' hell is he here?" He asked Wesker. That slur was so annoying...he could think perfectly fine, but it didn't sound like it.

Wesker sighed and came over to him, holding out placating hands. 

“Calm down. I needed him here to go over my notes before we turned in the project,” he explained tiredly. 

Birkin wrung his hands nervously, staying well behind the desk.

Chris shot the thin man a pointed glare before turning to Wesker and lowering his voice. 

"Why here? He's got an office," he growled, arms still crossed. He lowered his voice further and whispered pointedly, "And I told 'im last time that if I saw him here again I'd break his legs." Well...implied that, anyway. Subtlety and implications could be skipped when one was "drunk", though.

He had to admit, Birkin was pretty brave to actually show up here after that conversation.

Wesker glared down at him, moving to interrupt his gaze at Birkin. 

“I know that you don't like him, but please. It's important,” he said, resting his hands on Chris's crossed arms. “We can coordinate the rest through email – I'll walk him out now.” He waved to Birkin, who hesitantly moved a step closer.

Chris took exactly one step to the side and stood right by the door, arms still crossed and glare firmly in place. He didn't actually want to attack the man, it just pissed him off that he could get away with pretty much breaking into their home in the middle of the night and trying to steal Wesker's research and somehow still got to visit. He shouldn’t have cared — this wasn’t even real — but it felt real.

His husband had to turn and drag Birkin by the arm to get him into the hallway, but once he was there, he practically ran. Wesker followed.

“Send it out as soon as you're done going over it.”

Chris watched them and sighed. Once Birkin was gone, he fully expected Wesker to come back and yell at him. Probably for being drunk, possibly for not letting them be done with their stupid project already. 

He didn't really care. Birkin wasn't welcome in the house as far as he was concerned, and he refused to compromise about that.

Wesker returned shortly, heading right past Chris and taking his seat back in front of his laptop silently. But he didn't start typing.

Chris said nothing, staying put exactly where he was — which was right by the door that was standing wide open. He brought a hand up to his forehead slowly and sighed.

"Go ahead. You're gonna say something," he said dully.

“No...” The blond said through gritted teeth. “Just drink some water and go to bed.” He placed his hands pointedly on the laptop's keyboard and started typing.

The brunette frowned at him. 

"You're the one who should be in bed. You're dead on your feet."

Wesker slammed the laptop shut and stood up, scattering pens across the desk. 

“Why the hell are you drunk? It's not even 7!”

Chris rubbed his forehead again wearily. 

"Don't know. Woke up like this." From his perspective that was exactly what had happened, but his dream self had probably been off drinking sometime recently. Lovely.

“Right,” Wesker said lightly, coming back over to Chris. “Put your arms down,” he growled, placing his hands on his hips. 

The brunette let his hands drop to his sides, sighing. 

"If you're gonna hit me, you might wanna wait 'til I'm sober. Face's a little numb," he mumbled, looking at the blond. 

Rolling his eyes, Wesker shook his head. 

“Why in the world...ugh.” He stepped closer and slipped under Chris's arm to support him. “You need to sit down at least. Do you want to watch TV?” He asked neutrally, starting to lead him back toward the living room.

Piers darted into the hallway, eying them. 

“Is Dad stinky again?” He asked cutely. He hugged the Apache model and looked up at Chris with big gray eyes.

“Yes,” Wesker mumbled in reply.

"I'm fine," Chris told the kid, smiling. "Go play, daddy's got me." He glanced sidelong at Wesker and sighed. "No TV."

“Yes, 'daddy'sh' got you,” Wesker muttered.

The toddler took off again, speeding away in his dinosaur camo PJs.

They paused at the living room door and Wesker looked up at him again. “Kitchen?”

"No," Chris managed, sounding even more glum than he felt. This was terrible — he didn't actually have an alcohol problem anymore, but he still got to deal with having a damned alcohol problem anyway. "Just...just prop me up somewhere and go write your email. It's more important," he told his husband sadly. "I'm not your problem." Well, technically since they were married, he kind of was. But he also had something he wanted to try, something that Wesker had to go away for.

“Then how about the couch? I don't want you laying down until you've had something to drink. Water. Until you've had some water,” Wesker said firmly. He shifted Chris's arm. 

It hadn't occurred to Chris before, but he might actually be hard for Al to hold up.

Blinking, the brunette shifted on his feet as well, trying not to lean on him so much. His balance was so off that it made him sway and nearly tip over, though. Damn it.

"I-I'll stay sitting up," he promised dizzily. "Look...I can walk. You're busy, you don't have time for this." He did his best to detach his arm from the blond's grip, wobbling again. 

“Yes I do,” the blond growled, keeping a firm hold on Chris's arm. He led him into the living room to the couch. “No sleeping.”

Piers watched them come in, absently smashing his helicopter on top of a fake hamburger.

Chris sighed and tried not to lean on him any more than before. 

"Well, I don't want you to," he said flatly, a little annoyed. "This's stupid." It made no sense to get annoyed at Al for helping him, of course — he was actually annoyed that helping him was necessary.

Spotting Piers, the brunette blinked. 

"Hey, where's Jake?"

“He said that his tank was going to go to the underground cave!” Piers pointed to the hall, vaguely in the direction of Jake's room.

Wesker plunked Chris on top of the couch and sighed. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned quickly with a glass of water. Sitting it on the coffee table, he left, shoulders slumped.

Chris looked at the water and sighed, reaching to pick it up. Not because he wanted to drink it, but because seeing that he had would put Al's mind at ease at least a little bit. 

Sipping at the water, he looked around the living room slowly. There were toys on the floor, dishes in the sink, paper and crayons scattered messily on the coffee table... Wesker must have been too busy focusing on his big project to even clean the place up much.

And Chris’s dream self was getting drunk. It was a wonder he wasn't divorced yet. 

An idea occurred to him, and he grabbed a green crayon and a piece of paper. Scribbling a quick note onto it, he folded it up clumsily and added, "To Chris" on the outside, then shoved it into his shirt pocket.

Piers came over and crawled up on to the couch. 

“Dad, can Sherry come play? Jake won't play with me.” He whined sadly, hugging onto Chris's arm.

Chris half-placed, half-slid the glass of water back onto the coffee table, only just managing not to spill it. Then he scooped the little boy up from the couch and hugged him warmly. 

"Why won't Jake play? Did you two fight?"

“He told me that he can see in the dark and I know it's not true!” Piers said angrily, an adorable scowl on his face. It almost resembled Al's.

Chris patted the kid's back and looked at him in concern. 

"Well, some people see better in the dark than other people," he offered. Inwardly, he was reminded of the glowing eyes Wesker normally had in the real world. Jake's certainly weren't red, and he was a little kid here. He was probably just making it up.

Looking offended that Chris was taking Jake's side, Piers continued to frown. 

“Sherry said he was full of baloney.” He leaned against his dad's neck and hugged his good arm there. 

"It does sound like a pretty tall tale," Chris murmured, rubbing his back. He could almost forget his body was drunk if he held still like this. "It's no fun to fight, though. You guys should be nice to each other."

Placing a hand Chris's chest, Piers frowned at the sound of crumpling paper. 

“Jake's never nice to me. He says I act like a girl because I'm play with Sherry.” The little boy rubbed his cheek sadly. “But I'm not a girl.”

"Aww, Piers." Chris poked the kid's cheek with a fingertip. He was so sweet and cute as a child — it was hard not to smile. "You act like you, and you're a boy. So you act like a boy," he reasoned. "I bet Jake's just sad because you're playing with Sherry instead of him. I'd feel left out." 

“But he's always so mean to me!” Piers sniffled.

“Who is?” Wesker asked in concern, circling around to the front of the couch.

Piers rubbed his cheek again as tears ran down his face. 

“J-Jake.”

Chris rubbed his back again, concerned. 

"Always? Since when?" He glanced up at Wesker and back to their son sadly. The kid version of Jake didn't seem to be particularly mean, but definitely hot-headed. Actually, the real Jake was just the same, come to think of it.

“He never wants to play,” Piers said with a tearful scowl. “Not even with my Apache.”

Wesker was smiling as he plucked Piers off of Chris's lap. The toddler looked alarmed, but the tall man sat him down on the floor quickly. 

“Go play. I have to put Dad to bed.” He ruffled Piers' hair. “Then I'll talk to Jake.”

Chris reached and patted Piers' shoulder sympathetically. 

"We'll work it out, don't worry." He wobbled a bit and leaned back against the couch safely, looking at the half-empty glass of water on the coffee table. Well, he'd managed to get some of it down, anyway.

Piers went back to his toys sadly, hugging his Apache close. Hopefully Birkin would still let Sherry visit.

“Come on.” Wesker offered his arms to Chris. Despite what he had said, he looked exhausted. His eyelids were heavy over those blue eyes. “I'm sorry I yelled at you.” 

The brunette pushed himself up from the couch cushions and took his husband's hands, sighing. 

"Don't be. This's...I-I don't know why I do this. I'm sorry."

Wesker hugged him before moving back under his arm. 

“I don't either – but I wish you'd tell me.”

They slowly made their way to the bedroom. His husband was quiet, lost in thought.

"Did you find Jake?" Chris asked quietly, focusing on keeping his balance and not tipping over. The hallway was carpeted, but he had a feeling Al would have a lot of trouble picking him up again.

“Yes. He's in his room, asleep under his bed.” Wesker held him tightly, but still wobbled when Chris shifted his weight. “I'm not sure why him and Piers are fighting, but they always work it out.” He stopped to open the bedroom door.

"Something about Jake having night vision," Chris recalled vaguely, sighing. "Piers really hopes Sherry can visit. Maybe you could call Claire...and then when your work's done, you can actually sleep."

“It's everybody’s bedtime – I don't think Sherry's coming over,” Wesker said coolly as he led Chris to the bed. “I'll call her in the morning, but I do have to put the kids to bed.”

"Thought you said it wasn't even 7," Chris mumbled, letting go of him and half-crawling, half-slumping onto the bed on his stomach. He buried his face in the pillow and sighed slowly. His body felt heavy.

Wesker carefully took off Chris's boots and tugged a blanket out from under the brunette to cover him. 

“Time flies, Chris.” He patted Chris's back, sitting on the bed beside him. Trailing fingers over the muscular man's back, Wesker sighed. “I'm not mad at you. If that's why y-you're drinking.”

Hearing the little tremor in his voice, Chris rolled over onto his back and looked up at the blond. 

"Why not? I'm a terrible husband," he said sadly. 

Wesker smiled down at him. 

“No you're not.” He ran a hand along Chris's jaw lightly. “Just a little troublesome sometimes.” The blond lean down and kissed him. “But I still love you.” He smiled tightly. “Even when you stink like vodka.” 

Chris looked up into his blue eyes and tried to ignore the ache in his chest. This wasn't even real, but it was still Wesker, and he'd still just said that he loved him.

"D-don't know what I did to deserve you," he mumbled, closing his eyes before Al could see the tears in them. He had nothing to run away from here — he had a loving husband, a wonderful house, and beautiful kids. So why the hell was the other him getting drunk all the time? 

Unfortunately, he'd have to wait until he fell back asleep again to see if his alter ego ever answered the question.


	35. Creative

“Hey! Hey, wake up!” Leon said, shaking Jake's shoulder.

He had actually managed to fall asleep.

The redhead sat up quickly, his mind still half-coherent. 

"What, what?!" He looked around for Piers and Sherry.

All he saw a very concerned face belonging to Leon leaned over him. 

“Where's Sherry?”

Shoving the blanket aside, Jake stood and went to check the kitchen. Finding nobody there, he hurried to the other end of the RV and checked in the driver seat section as well. 

"You didn't see her go outside, did you? Or Piers?" He asked the blond grimly, dashing for the door next. "They're gone — you had to see something!"

“Piers is outside – calm down!” Leon chased after him, frowning. “Sherry was too, but we looked up and she was gone. I thought she just came back in here, so I checked and found nothing.”

"You left him out there alone?" Jake pulled the door open and dashed out before Leon could say any more. Sherry had just disappeared? It didn't make sense, Piers would have seen her leave.

It was raining outside again, and very cold. The redhead looked around almost frantically for some sign of anybody else out there. "Piers! Where are you?"

Piers spun around to face him – a tall blond at his side. Wesker?

The shorter man came over to the redhead, looking between him and Leon. 

“She wasn't in there?”

“No.” Leon shook his head.

Wesker scowled, turning back to look over the forest briefly before joining them.

“She wouldn't leave without informing someone – she's not a fool. She may have gotten cornered and had to hide somewhere though. Look for undead.” He nodded to Leon. “Get back on top of the RV and keep watch.”

Leon halfheartedly nodded and hurried away.

"How'd this happen?" Jake looked between Piers and Wesker, torn between being alarmed and angry. "Never mind — where'd you last see her?" He was relieved to even see Piers, but his pregnant girlfriend was out there somewhere alone. Or not alone, because there were zombies out there with her.

“Like I said, she was out here – she talked to me on the roof – and then when she came back down, she disappeared.”

“I saw her go around the front-” Piers added but was cut off by a desperate voice.

“Jake! Jake!” Claire came charging around the front of the RV, waving her arm back the way she came. “I think I found her. There's a little building down there by a stream and there are a lot of zombies around it,” she panted.

“You three stay here – Jake, let's go.” Wesker started that direction, tugging on the cuff of his gloves. 

Piers growled, but stayed where he was.

Jake dashed after him without any hesitation. If Sherry was inside a building, at least that put something between her and the zombies. There wasn't any other reason for them to group around a building, either — it wasn't like anything but a person would hide inside.

He could hear the RV door slam behind them, but then they were in the woods.

Wesker moved very quickly, dashing ahead when he spotted footprints in the mud. In only a few minutes – Jake could make out the soft trickle of a stream punctuated with splashing and groans.

His father headed that way and jumped down into the stream. It was shallow – not even six inches deep.

Several of the clawing corpses turned to look at him.

Jake picked up the nearest rock he could find and threw it at them before hopping down after Wesker. He was surprised the blond was even moving around again so soon — he'd barely been able to stand before Jake had gone to sleep.

Sleep — damned sleep. He didn't plan on doing THAT again anytime soon.

But Wesker's eyes weren't red. They were still blue.

He noticed just as his father lunged into the mob, snapping limbs with swift kicks. As soon as a zombie fell – Wesker's heel was crushing its face in.

Well, at least he wasn't dead weight. Jake joined him in kicking and stomping out every zombie that he could find. Which was quite a few — several dozen, it seemed like, though he wasn't taking the time to count. Even if Sherry was in the building, what if one of them had bitten her? She wasn't immune — and as far as they knew, neither was the child she was carrying.

As the last corpse was maimed, Wesker grabbed hold of one that had wormed its way partly under the door and dragged it out, crushing its skull. He looked at Jake and gestured to the door.

But they didn't have to wait. It pushed open on its own and Sherry peeked out. She spotted Jake and ran to hug him.

He wrapped both arms around her and held her tightly, even bowing his head to press one cheek to her hair, and rocked them back and forth a little. 

"Hey...I've got you," he whispered. For the moment, he'd forgotten that Wesker was standing right there. Was Sherry okay? There had been dozens of zombies out here.

“We need to head back,” Wesker said, circling them to look around. “Quietly. We can't afford to lead them back to the RV.”

Sherry finally noticed Wesker and looked up at Jake in surprise. 

“I'm sorry f-for running off! There was a guy out here!”

Wesker grabbed her arm gently. 

“We need to leave. Talk later.”

Jake turned and scooped Sherry up in his arms, starting quickly back the way they had come. 

"He's right — let's get you safe first." He surprised himself both by agreeing with his father, and by not getting pissed that he’d grabbed Sherry's arm no matter how gently it had been done.

Wesker darted around them as they moved, keeping watch for anymore undead.

Sherry watched him in turn, blue eyes wide. 

“It's so weird.”

"That he's still alive and kickin'? Tell me about it," Jake said under his breath. He wasn't annoyed about it, but it WAS weird, and just plain unnatural. Unnatural was something the whole world was being subjected to these days, though.

“No,” She looked up at him. “Him helping. H-he...he must want the baby,” she said sadly, eyes tearing up. “Why else—” Sherry hugged Jake closely, crying.

The RV came into view again.

Jake was so startled by that that he nearly stopped, but the RV was right there. He could see Leon up on the roof. He held Sherry a bit tighter and put in a new burst of speed to dash the last stretch between them and the vehicle.

Claire and Piers came out to meet them. The auburn haired woman ran to Jake's side, rubbing Sherry's back. She looked very alarmed that the blond was crying.

“Is she okay? What happened?” Claire asked quickly. But Wesker shooed her along too, snagging Piers' sleeve as he passed.

“Get inside,” he hissed, still glancing around like they were followed.

Jake carried his girlfriend inside and promptly moved over to sit on the dinette bed with her, still hugging her tightly. 

"Shh, that's not gonna happen. Me and Piers won't let that happen," he whispered.

Rebecca poked her head inside the RV just after the others went inside, looking at Sherry worriedly. 

"Y-you found her, thank goodness! Is she hurt?"

Piers sat the large sniper rifle down and went Sherry's side, petting her hair.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

Sherry nodded, taking steadying breaths. 

“S-sorry. I'm okay.”

Seeing that everyone who could be was inside, Wesker looked back into the bedroom to check on Chris.

The muscular brunette was still sleeping on the bed exactly where Wesker had left him. He had a sad look on his face, like he might be having a bad dream. 

Jake picked up the blanket he'd been sleeping under not long ago and wrapped it around Sherry, then hugged her to his chest again. 

"You're okay. Cold, though — how long were you out there?" He asked, glancing at Piers to see if he knew. He'd been there when they had gotten separated.

Concluding that Sherry didn't need any medical help, Rebecca ducked back outside to let Billy know the situation.

“What, an hour?” Piers said with a questioning look towards Wesker. The tall blond returned to the group, crossing his arms.

“Yes.”

“Look. There was a man out there,” Sherry said, finally calming down. “He had a gun trained on me, so I had to run down the hill. He followed me, but when I got stuck in that shack thing he left.” She sat up a bit more, frowning at Jake. “He was well armed. I don't think we're alone out here.”

Wesker paced across the room, glancing out the door. 

Jake held her a bit tighter, frowning. He hated the thought that somebody was out there aiming guns at Sherry and he'd been in here safe and asleep at the time. That wasn't right. 

"Did he get a good look at you?" He asked quietly. "Did he say anything?" 

Claire went to check on her brother too. Chris sighed slowly and opened his eyes, blinking up at her. He hadn't been awakened by the commotion, it seemed that he'd just woke up on his own. He looked a bit confused about it. His sister gave him a little wave before turning back to the rest of the group. It seemed like everyone was in the living room at the moment.

“He told me to hold still and then to come with him ‘back to town,’” Sherry was saying. Then her eyebrows lowered. “He called me ‘little girl.’” 

Wesker glanced over at her and then leaned out the door.

“Rebecca!” He waved a hand to her to beckon her over.

The medic hurried over with her bag over her shoulder, no doubt expecting to have to bandage somebody. 

"What's wrong?"

Jake scowled along with Sherry, rubbing her back. Well, now they knew why the stranger hadn't actually taken any shots at her — his intentions were a lot worse than that. 

"If he comes anywhere near here again, we'll kick his ass for ya," he promised. And then some.

Chris sat up and moved to look into the living room. 

"What's going on?"

“Officer Chambers. Do you have any reason to believe that the group that you took the medical supplies from may come looking for them this far out of the city?” Wesker looked at Chris as he approached, but didn't comment. The blond man turned back to Rebecca. “Do they know what you look like?”

Rebecca glanced between him and Chris, then her gaze quickly moved to Sherry. 

"I...think they're motivated to do that, yes," she said a bit faintly, pressing a small hand over her mouth. "They didn't see my face — I-I had a hoodie on, so they just saw that I'm short and female. They didn't hurt Sherry, did they...?" 

She and the little blond could easily be mistaken for each other in clothes that covered their hair — although Rebecca obviously wasn't pregnant. In the dark, though, whoever the younger woman had run into probably couldn't see that well.

“As I suspected,” Wesker said. “If that man was a scout, he'll be informing his group shortly. We need to get through the horde.”

“How exactly?” Piers asked with a scowl. “There are so many out there that there's a good chance the RV will get stuck driving over them.”

Sherry sat silently hugging Jake, her eyes fixed on Wesker suspiciously.

"We've got the repellent formula, but if it's a danger to you or Piers, I-I don't think we should use it," Rebecca told Wesker uneasily. "If this was an hour ago, we really need to move soon! The only reason I got away from them last time was by using the repellent to jump into a bunch of zombies..."

"No," Chris interrupted, glancing between Rebecca and Wesker. "We don't want the zombies to run away — we just need past them. If they stick around, they'll slow the other guys down, right?"

“Yes. We're a good distance away from town,” Wesker noted. “Even if he has a vehicle, it will take him awhile to get back there – unless their base is closer to here. But the horde can be used to our advantage like Chris said. Unfortunately, that means finding a way through that doesn't kill them all.”

“The repellent wears off after what, half an hour?” Piers said. “We could make a thin trail through the crowd – then once it wears off, the path will close.” He gestured back and forth between him and Wesker. “Someone normal will have to do it, though. And that means getting close to the horde.”

“Absolutely not. We'll load it into bullets and shoot from a distance,” Wesker said sharply.

“But it takes a few minutes to work,” Claire cut in. “We can't just shoot as we go.”

"What about something other than bullets?" Rebecca fidgeted, glancing back at the door. "S-somebody needs to warn Billy about who's out there. The scout could still have friends around."

"What if we put it on a BOW like we talked about before," Chris suggested, placing a hand on Wesker's shoulder. "Put it on a few zombies, use it to make them run into the other zombies, and they scare away a path?"

“Creative,” the blond said, looking back at him affectionately. “We still have that one under the car. But as Piers said, BOWs cannot handle the repellent. You can't get it on yourself either. It's potent.”

That was an understatement. 

Chris blinked, caught off-guard by the fondness in Wesker's blue eyes. He'd never seen that look directed at him before, not in real life rather than the dream world. 

“Fine, then we'll get a little more creative,” he said, determined. “Put the repellent on something and tie it around their necks so they're dragging it behind them instead of touching it. Bedsheets would work. Blankets would work.” If a stick had worked, anything that could be soaked through would do the job, pretty much.

Wesker turned back away from him, long fingers on his chin in thought. “What about on clothes?” He moved across the room and tugged one of the many jackets they had packed from the mall, holding it up for the group to see. “We could soak the back of it to motivate them.”

"It's doable," Chris agreed, nodding. He looked over at Jake and Piers sitting with Sherry and frowned. "...That'll take care of getting us through the bunch of them, but remember, the men after Rebecca are heavily armed. They could manage to take the horde down."

That would be a stupid waste of far too much ammunition, but Rebecca made it sound like these men might be crazy enough to try it.

“But it will slow them down. We can lose them on the back roads,” the scientist said calmly, loading up his arms with several jackets.

Piers watched him and nodded. 

“We don't really have time to debate about it.” He rubbed his neck. 

“Then go tell Leon and Claire to soak these.” Wesker laid a few coats into Piers' arms. “Then come back inside. I'm going to go catch a few more corpses.”

The short man nodded and headed outside.

Jake hugged Sherry a bit tighter, watching Piers head out the door. He didn't like either of them being out of his sight right now, not even for a minute or two, but he couldn't leave Sherry by herself. When he thought how close she'd come to being abducted by those psychos, it made him angry all over again. 

Chris watched Piers leave, too, then crossed his arms and turned back to Wesker. 

"I'll go be lookout for now — Billy can't watch all sides at once."

“Good – you'll be in sight,” the blond said shortly, also hopping out of the door.

Chris turned to Sherry and Jake, who were the only ones left inside the RV besides himself. 

"I hope you two won't take it the wrong way when I ask you to sit this one out. Piers, too," he said carefully. "Sherry, you and Piers have some form of the virus in your blood — the repellent's a valid danger. And Jake, you need to keep an eye on Piers — he'll probably need another treatment soon."

The redhead frowned, glancing quickly at Wesker's little counter lab. How long had it been since Piers' last shot? 

“Just please be careful, Chris,” Sherry said, reaching a hand out of her blanket to wave at the large man. “I don't think Wesker's really up to par yet.” She frowned. Even with all the dashing around and the scary thought that he was interested in her baby for scientific reasons, she felt strangely bad for Wesker. He HAD just died, after all.

Sherry sat up a little, trying to take her mind off of that. “Jake?” She looked up at him with big shiny blue eyes. “Rebecca said t-that I should eat more and I don't think it's good to take my vitamins on an empty stomach – do you think there's something other than peaches around here?”

As Chris stepped toward the door, Jake was already over in the kitchen and starting to poke through the cabinets. 

"I'll find you something..."  


* * *

  
After what seemed like forever, Piers finally returned. As he came back inside, Jake noticed how pale he looked again. Maybe it was just the cold rain...

Wesker came in behind him, looking angry at having to stay inside. They both stripped off their wet coats and hung them in the shower. As Wesker returned to check over his lab, Piers came over to the two at the table with a smile on his face.

“What're you eating? Smells good.”

"Chicken noodle soup. We didn't pack any, so I think the RV's last owner left it in the cabinet," Jake said, scooting to make room for him on the bench and holding out his free arm invitingly. Sherry was at his other side, and it was kind of a small seat for three, but Piers looked cold...and pale. Very pale. 

The brunette sat down beside him gladly, hugging his arms around Jake's waist and closing his eyes. His hair was wet.

Wesker worked quietly, poking quickly at his tablet. Was that a good or a bad sign?

Sherry sipped her soup and scooted the bowl toward Piers. 

“You want some?”

The gray eyed man opened his eyes and shook his head. 

“I had an energy bar – you need it more.” He gave her a winning smile and shut his eyes again.

A little smile came over Jake's face as he watched this. The two of them were so...well, cute. As he'd found out earlier when they teamed up on him, those sweet faces and big shining eyes could be used for great evil if they were so inclined. He smoothed his hand over Piers' hair, mostly to get the water out. 

"Don't worry, I found more than one can."

Under all the water, Piers was cold to the touch. But he didn't seem to be in pain or anything.

The sound of shattering glass caught all of their attention, though. Wesker was leaning heavily on the counter with an arm, straining to stay on his feet. He noticed that he had eyes pointed his way and stood up straight again, shakily kneeling to clean up the broken vial.

Piers frowned at him but looked back to Jake. 

“Um, thanks. Rain always makes me want soup.”

Jake was frowning over at his father, too. He glanced when Piers looked at him, troubled. 

"I know what you mean. I always used to make soup on the cold rainy days so the house would smell nice." Great — now he was recalling the days when he still lived in Edonia with his mother.

Sliding out of his reach, Piers smiled at him. 

“Where's the soup? I can heat it up.”

Sherry was frozen, watching Wesker intently.

The blond man quietly put the broken vial into the trash, sitting his tablet aside – then leaning over on the counter face down.

Piers watched him with a frown, crossing his arms.

"Uh. The pot's on the stove," Jake said quietly, sliding out of the bench seat after him. He waved in the general direction of the kitchen. "Go for it, it might even still be kinda warm." 

Against his better judgment, he headed across the room to check on Wesker. Well, where 'check' meant 'poke with fingertip to test if still living.'

Wesker immediately sat up as he came closer, going back to his work slowly. 

“His treatment will be ready soon.”

Piers crept past them and snagged the whole soup pot before retreating back to Sherry's side. The last thing he wanted to do was get between Jake and his father.

Jake stepped up to the counter and leaned an elbow on it, turning sideways to tilt his head and try and get a good look at the blond's face. 

"Yeah, I was wondering about that." Were his eyes still blue?

His father turned away from him – seemingly to rummage in his duffel bag. He silently stood back up – balancing himself with a hand on the counter as casually as possible and staring down his son. His eyes were bleeding. He blinked tiredly and gestured back to the table.

“I'll administer it when it's ready.”

Jake looked at him for a long moment with no particular reaction besides his brows furrowing. 

"...Might need a booster shot, there," he said more quietly, sitting up.

“No, he'll be fine.” The blond man said, poking at his tablet again. “He will have some side effects after his next shot – but they will not be nearly as severe as previously.”

Sherry and Piers were both watching them intently – probably expecting a fight.

Jake leaned on the table again, glancing at the tablet with mild interest. 

"I wasn't talking about him," he said under his breath. Less side effects was a relief to hear, though. Poor Piers had been through hell with the previous treatments already, he didn't need any more of that.

“Jake.” Wesker said coldly, looking his direction again. He was going to speak but paused to think it over. The tall man sat the tablet down. After a moment, he nodded and dropped his voice low. “I may need to lay down for awhile.” He grimaced, wiping a fingertip lightly across his cheek. It just smeared the blood trail. “Would you be willing to keep an eye on Chris? He should be back before we start moving.”

The redhead's gaze flicked from his eyes down to his hand and back again, and he nodded grimly. 

"Got it. When does Piers get his next shot?" They were practically whispering amongst themselves; he could feel Piers and Sherry staring at the back of his head. 

Wesker frowned and glanced at his tablet – blinking to see clearly. 

“An hour from now at the earliest. His body needs time to adjust.” He pointed to the tablet. “It's inside this. It will drop out when it's done.”

Without further comment, he moved slowly back into the bedroom. He snagged a towel as he went.

Jake turned around and stepped back over to the table, being as nonchalant about it as he could. Wesker was recovering from, quite literally, being dead. He'd forgotten it for a few minutes when they went to retrieve Sherry, but now it had been underscored again.

A hand grabbed his gently and Piers looked up at him with sad gray eyes.

“Is he okay?” He glanced after Wesker. Sherry watched the tall blond go too, frowning.

"Not sure," Jake admitted, glancing at the door his father had just gone through with a little frown. He squeezed Piers' hand and turned back to him and Sherry. "Looks a lot like what happened to you when you first got that treatment with my blood. I bet he recovers like you did, too." 

And here he was, charged with looking after Chris again. Why did Wesker think HE was the only one trustworthy enough to do that, anyway? Maybe it had less to do with trustworthiness and more to do with strength in a fight.

“Should we tell Chris?” Sherry asked. She didn't look as worried so much as scared. Her suspicions about why Wesker had helped find her earlier still seemed to be making her uneasy.

Piers stared at the bedroom door solemnly. 

“It felt like my skin was being burned off.” He swallowed and looked away. “And all I saw was red.”

Jake took a step closer and hugged him with one arm, looking over at Sherry. 

"I think it's pretty obvious he doesn't want to need anybody's help, but we'll keep an eye on him," he told them both. He did plan to tell Chris as soon as he saw the man again. Wesker hadn't asked him not to, after all.

The brunette hugged him in return. 

“They should be done by now. Maybe I should sneak out on top of the RV and see.” He looked up at Jake again.

“Aren't you worried about the fumes though?” Sherry asked. Piers shrugged a shoulder.

“I should be okay on top of the RV. The repellent's down by the zombies – and I can snipe things if Chris gets in trouble.”

Jake hugged him a bit tighter out of reflex, frowning. 

"No. You stay in here," he said firmly. "We got lucky with Wesker — my blood's the same type as his. If you get exposed to that crap out there, there's no cure for you. I'm not gonna take even a remote chance of that."

“But I wasn't affected earlier,” the brunette sighed. “He must have actually gotten some on himself or something.”

Sherry frowned and laid her head back on her arms.

Jake sighed, too, and put both arms around him finally. He patted the shorter man's back. 

"Or stood around near it too long, or got exposed while working on it. I don't care how, Piers, I don't want to watch you die." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I'll go out and check on things. And I'll bring Redfield back with me."

Piers grabbed him tighter and frowned. 

“What if it affects you? You're a BOW too.”

Jake tilted his head curiously at that. 

"Huh? Never really thought of myself that way before." He glanced over at Sherry and frowned. Even she was technically a BOW, wasn't she? 

"I'm pretty sure this repellent stuff only works on people who have the virus living in their blood," he said after a moment. "My antibodies don't let that happen, I think they just kill whatever virus they come in contact with." He loosened up his hold on Piers and sat back, smiling wryly. "I can't even get a cold — it's freaky." 

Sherry sighed. 

“Just please be careful. Stay away from it as much as possible.” Piers let go of Jake and shivered.

The redhead patted his shoulder, then leaned down and took one of Sherry's hands, kissing it.

"I'll be okay — and I'll be right back," he promised, starting toward the door.

Sherry got up and changed sides to sit next to Piers, both of them watching Jake go sadly. 

The weather outside had taken a turn for the worse. It was windy and still sprinkling. The air was damp and chill, reminding Jake that winter was right around the corner. He stepped outside and closed the door quickly behind him, squinting against the wind. He looked around quickly to see that the immediate area was clear, then circled to the back of the RV to climb the ladder up onto the top. 

"Redfield?"

Chris was not there.

In fact, nobody was. The patched section of the RV roof looked a little too shiny compared to the rest, and there had definitely not been any muddy footprints added to it recently. That meant Chris had told Wesker he'd be on the roof and never even gone up there. 

"Damn it," Jake muttered under his breath, sitting up to try and spot where Chris, Leon or Claire were from the top of the RV.

As a gust of wind rocked the RV gently, he spotted Leon heading back to the RV. He was on alert – glancing off at the sides of the roads for potential threats.

"Hey!" Jake stood up and waved at him, looking around for any sign of Chris still. "Where's Redfield?"

The blond man flinched, startled by Jake's voice. He spotted the younger man and frowned. 

“I thought he was up there,” he called, hurrying over to the bottom of the ladder.

Jake knelt at the side of the roof and reached to give him a hand climbing up. 

"He was supposed to be! How's it going out here? Everything ready to go?"

“Yep,” Leon said, taking Jake's offered hand. “The repellent zombies are ready to go. We just need to take the soaked shirts out and stick them on their backs.” He climbed up on top of the roof and sat down. “I have to admit – this is kind of a weird plan.” He smiled. Standing up, the ex-agent looked around the perimeter for the others.

Jake stood back up and crossed his arms, looking around as well. 

"Hey, if it works then I'm game. We've just gotta get moving before those assholes come back with more pals and a bunch of guns," he muttered. It still made him angry to think of Sherry cornered by some creep with a gun who was trying to get her to leave with him. Made him want to punch something.

At the moment, though, finding Chris was the immediate concern. Jake scanned the tree line again critically. They couldn't exactly leave without him.


	36. Behind Us

The rain had turned into a fine mist, but in turn the wind had picked up. It blew in big gusts as Chris and Claire peeked around the edge of the worn out sign by the road, trying to get a good view of their path — and how many zombies they would have to drive through. Low groans carried to them on the wind, along with the strangely sweet-sour smell of rotting meat.

There had to be at least a hundred of them.

The highway itself was roomy, but there were abandoned cars parked on it lining both sides. Between the cars and both sides of the road, walking corpses shambled and groaned in a tightly-packed horde. This close, the siblings could see the wet tatters of their clothing and the chunks of bare skull where hair and scalp had been ripped out. Many of them had bloody faces and hands.

Ducking back behind the sign and leaning against it, Chris glanced at his sister, feeling the wind wobble the sheet of metal against his back. 

"Those cars are gonna be a problem," he whispered. The way they'd driven in was clear, of course — but that wasn't the way that they needed to go.

Claire sighed. 

“Well. They'll be a problem for whoever is following us, too.” She glanced back at the road. The auburn haired woman sat back down and shrugged. “We don't have a lot of options. Force our way through or manually move a ton of cars in the middle of a zombie horde. If we had a grenade, it'd be a different story.”

"An explosion would cause more trouble than it would be worth," Chris sighed. He could see burning tires on the RV in his head already. A blowout on the road in the middle of the zombie horde would be the end of them all. 

He looked at Claire glumly, watching her ponytail blowing sideways in the big gusts of wind that kept buffeting the sign. "...Hey, do you ever dream about the way things were? Before Raccoon City, I mean."

His sister quirked her eyebrows. 

“Yes. I mean, sometimes. I dream about when we were kids,” she said, more than a little surprised by the sudden change of subject.

At her odd look, Chris directed his eyes to the ground instead. He frowned. 

"Not memories. I mean, dreams about how it could be. About us as adults." He paused and added more quietly, "I keep having dreams that I have a family."

But Claire placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. 

“That sounds nice. My dreams usually aren't that good.” She scooted a little closer, peeking to make sure that the zombies were still far away. “Are you still in STARS?”

Chris looked out at the path the way they had come. 

"Never made it there," he admitted. "Got married right after I quit the Air Force."

“Who's the girl?” Claire asked coyly. “Or guy, I guess,” she added, glancing back toward the RV pointedly.

Of course she would have to ask that outright. Chris sighed heavily and looked at her. 

"I'm pretty sure you could guess."

He nodded at the RV pointedly, too, crossing his arms.

“So,” she smiled at him and wove her fingers together to rest on her knee, “You met Wesker in the Air Force, he swept you off your feet and you guys got married. Aww. How cute.”

"Not exactly. We have kids," Chris said, watching her uncertainly. This was the first time he could recall discussing Wesker with her without some sort of scoffing or disgust coming back at him. Not that the real Wesker was anything like the dream one, not with his past history. "Um. W-we each have a kid, from past relationships," he clarified hurriedly. "Piers and Jake, actually."

May as well get the whole crazy scenario out there if he was going to talk about it at all. He hadn't mentioned this to Leon mostly because he was afraid the guy already thought he was losing it.

She beamed at him. 

“Well. I guess that's why you said 'family' instead of husband.” She thought over his words for a moment, and her smile faded to a more serious expression. “So, you and Wesker are for real then? You actually kissed him, had a dream about him and now you two are together?” She looked up at him and smiled again, but weakly. “How do you do it? Just forgive him like that?”

Chris said nothing for a long moment. He still wasn't sure, himself. 

"Because I still love him," he said finally, the words catching a bit in his throat. "I loved him in STARS...and I've loved him ever since. I-I can't just stop. It doesn't work that way." He put a hand over his eyes, wishing he could explain better. Convey just how deep this ran. It sounded stupid and crazy, and it probably was, but he couldn't deny it anymore.

Claire moved up next to him and wrapped an arm over his shoulders. 

“I just wanna know so I can forgive him too,” she said sadly. “I can tell he's genuinely trying. He's scared for you. He really loves you.” Patting his arm, she sighed. “The damage is already done – all of that is behind us. I think...I think I don't hate him anymore, either.”

"Claire." Chris moved his hand and looked at her sadly as well. "I...I've lost a lot." He faltered, a pained look coming over his face, and took a breath. "But, so has he. And we're both still here. Th-there's barely anything else left, and we're still here. We can stay alone with our nothingness, or we can try to start over. Together." 

He put a hand over the one of hers resting across his shoulders and patted it shakily. 

"W-we don't have all the time in the world, and we've already wasted so many years. I'll regret it forever if we waste one more day. That's how."

Claire smiled at him and nodded. 

“Then don't. If YOU can forgive him – we can definitely forgive him. So don't worry about us.”

"I don't expect anybody else to forgive him," Chris said heavily, looking down. The wind gusted again, whistling softly past the edge of the sign. "He's done terrible things. He's really hurt you. He was unstable at the time, but it doesn't make it okay. I-I just hope that you can forgive ME for pursuing this, because I can't give it up. I can't."

“Of course I do.” She hugged him tightly, taking a steadying breath. She laughed a little. “You have to start working on that family.”

Chris turned and hugged her in return, releasing the breath he'd been holding. 

"That's just a dream," he said quietly. "I'll be happy just to get to be with him. We need to get the hell to the mountains so everybody's safe first, though. I just — I-I wasn't sure anybody would want to stick around me if I was with him."

“Chris,” Claire sat back from him, scowling. “I'm your sister! Of course not.” She patted his arm firmly. “But we do need to get to the mountains.” His sister smiled up at him again and sighed. “Which means we have to deal with those cars.”  


* * *

  
Chris and Claire had barely stepped back into the clearing when they heard shouting from the roof of the RV. 

"There you are," Jake called down to them, looking irked. "Ya just took off without telling Leon or anybody where you went!"

His mind still lingering on the conversation with Claire by the sign, Chris sighed and waved a hand at him. 

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking. We were checking on the horde and what path we're taking," he explained. "I'm a bit surprised you're outside — did Piers and Sherry go to sleep?"

Hopping off the side of the RV to the ground, the redhead straightened and scowled. 

"No, they're waitin' on me to come back. With you."

“Hey, Claire – wanna switch?” Leon leaned over the edge of the RV's roof into view, waving a hand to the siblings. 

Claire looked up and him and smiled. 

“No, but I'll join you. There are a lot of zombies around – four eyes are better than two. Except on J'avo,” she added thoughtfully, making her way to the ladder.

Chris glanced after his sister, then stepped quickly over toward the RV's side door, waving for Jake to walk with him. 

"What do you need me for?"

The redhead shot him a grim look and climbed into the RV, holding the door for him. 

"It's Wesker."

The beefy brunette climbed in after him, glancing quickly around the room. Piers and Sherry were sitting together at one side of the dinette...and Wesker was nowhere to be seen.

He frowned worriedly. 

Sherry immediately got to her feet and came over to place her hands on Chris's shoulders. 

“Hi Chris. Glad you made it – how's the road?” She asked quickly, forcing a sweet smile.

Piers got up too, shyly joining her side.

Jake moved to his side and felt his forehead. Chris had no idea how long it had been since Piers had had one of his treatments, but it seemed like quite awhile.

"Crowded," the brunette admitted, glancing from Sherry to the closed bedroom door. "...Is Wesker...?"

"He's not dead," Jake assured him flatly.

“He's in the bedroom resting,” the little blond in front him said. “Just leave him alone for awhile.”

“I...” Piers began, but frowned and went quiet when Sherry glanced at him.

Chris sighed and looked at the three of them tiredly. How had they managed to get together into such a tight-knit trio so fast? Jake and Piers used to hate each other back when they first met. Although Jake had changed a lot, for the better.

"If Wesker actually agreed to go lay down and rest, he's got to be in bad shape," he told them, crossing his arms. It was true — Wesker just seemed to push himself nonstop lately.

Gently moving Sherry back, Piers stepped closer to Chris and frowned.

“His eyes are bleeding like mine were. If it's anything like what happened to me, he needs to rest for a few hours,” he explained quietly. Sherry patted his arm.

"Bleeding?" Chris glanced at Jake, who nodded once. He frowned and took a step toward the bedroom door. "Is his skin bleeding, too? Piers was bleeding too much." He looked at Piers unhappily. Those were some miserable memories.

"Just the eyes, from what I saw," Jake said evenly. He glanced back at the tablet on the table like he expected it to do something. "...Piers got that the first time he got a treatment made with my blood, so I bet it's the shot of my blood that's doin' it this time, too. Last time it stopped on its own, it just took awhile."

“And some deodorant,” Piers added sadly. “I still smell like the tropics.”

“The point is that if he's bleeding – you should probably leave him alone. Even if it's just his face,” Sherry said nervously, sitting back down at the table. “Just leave him be.”

Piers joined her quietly, glancing at the door. It was clear that he disagreed. He had seemed very scared when going through the whole ordeal earlier. The small man looked at Chris and then nodded halfheartedly. 

“Yeah.”

Jake frowned and poked at the tablet, saying nothing.

Chris looked at the three of them again and sighed once more. 

"He asked you not to let me in there, didn't he." It came out as a statement, not a question.

Turning to lean a hand on the counter lightly, Jake arched an eyebrow. 

"He actually didn't. Don't think he'd be too thrilled if you did, though."

Piers sat his arms on the table and slumped. 

“Wesker's tough. He'll be okay on his own.” He sighed heavily. Sherry leaned over and took his hand.

“Piers, he's alright. He probably knew this would happen and is taking a nap right now until it's over.”

The short soldier just frowned.

Chris was quiet for a long moment. Knowing Wesker, he wouldn't want to be seen in the state that he was in. On the other hand, if it was Chris, he doubted that Wesker would leave HIM alone in there. Decided, he stepped over to the bedroom door and opened it as quietly as possible, stepping through. He didn't check to see what the others' reactions were; he'd find out soon enough.

The blond's coat and gloves were laying forgotten on the foot of the bed. Wesker was laying in the middle of the bed on his side, face pressed into a bloodied white towel. He didn't move when Chris entered. 

“Leave me be.” He said through gritted teeth.

Chris turned from closing the door, almost apprehensive about approaching the bed. He did, though, if only to get a better look at Wesker's face. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he informed the blond quietly. "...Are you gonna be okay?"

Wesker pressed his face down into the towel and held up a blood stained hand toward Chris.

“Stay away from me. I'm infectious,” he stated, lifting his head tiredly off of the towel. Aside from all of the smeared blood – trickles were running down his face from his eyes, nose and even his mouth. He looked like he was from some kind of horror movie. Wesker blinked slowly, a softer pained expression on his face. “Please. You're safer out there at the moment.”

The look on his face bothered Chris. A lot. Wesker was damned tough, and if pain was showing on his face, he must be in a considerable amount of it. The brunette took a deep breath — and headed back out into the living room without replying. 

Not looking to see if Jake, Piers and Sherry were staring at him oddly, Chris rummaged in Rebecca's medical bag, grabbed a pair of the latex gloves, and put them on as he headed back into the bedroom. All without a word.

Wesker looked blindly up again, scowling. “What are you doing? It's not safe.” He growled and sat up clumsily on his elbows.

He really couldn't see, Chris concluded, or he would've noticed the gloves right there a foot from his face. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he turned and picked up the towel, dabbing at the blood on Wesker's mouth. 

"Lay back down. I'm gonna take care of you — whether you like it or not," he said matter-of-factly. A certain somebody had said just as much to him not too long ago.

“Don't touch that,” the blond growled, yanking the towel out of his hands. But he hesitated, staring in Chris's direction. “Could YOU lay down?” He asked quietly, settling back onto the bed.

That was an unexpected request. Chris reached and wiped some of the blood off of the blond man's cheek. 

"I've got gloves on," he assured Wesker, glancing down at the bed. They had to set the zombie repellent plan into motion sooner rather than later...and the others would probably need him for that. He couldn't just leave Wesker like this, though.

Carefully, he settled down on the bed beside Wesker, turning on his side to wrap an arm over the blond man's chest. 

Wesker placed the towel back on the pillow and rested his head there, closing his eyes. He slid a cold hand up to hold the the towel in place. The blond's eyebrows pinched slightly and he cleared his throat.

“Thank you.”

Chris watched this unhappily. There wasn't really much he could do except to be there. 

"...I didn't ever get to tell you this before," he said softly, picking up the edge of the towel and wiping at the trails of red running down Wesker's face. "When you first came back, the things I said — I never meant them. Not even when I was saying them."

Wesker's eyes were glazed over in red, but he looked up at Chris again. 

“Like everything I've been, hopefully that is behind us.” He closed his eyes again and sighed. “I don't want to die anymore. I won't leave you here alone.” The blond placed a hand on Chris's cheek, trailing his thumb along the brunette's chin as he had done before.

"Yeah, that's...that's behind us, too," Chris sighed. Fighting with Wesker and ‘killing’ him seemed like another lifetime. Living on without him. It still hurt to think about how close Wesker had come to dying again just recently. 

He sat the towel aside and gently smoothed the blond's mussed hair back from his face. 

"Is there anything that I can do to help? I-I remember Piers just had to wait."

“It will take some time. How are the preparations for clearing the road?” Wesker asked quietly, scooting up against Chris. He pulled the towel up to keep from getting blood on the muscular man's shoulder and tucked his head under Chris's chin.

Chris wrapped his arm around the blond's waist, hugging him close. He sighed slowly. 

"It's...they're about ready to move. I'll need to go out there soon and help," he admitted.

'Soon' was an understatement. They were pretty much waiting on him.

“Then go,” Wesker said. “There's no way to tell if that man thought Sherry lived or not. They could be on their way back now. We need to get moving.”

Chris hugged him a little tighter and was quiet for a long moment. 

Finally, reluctantly, he asked, "Will you be okay here by yourself until I come back? I know we need to move, I just..." He frowned. Deep down, he was just afraid that Wesker might die again while he was gone — and not come back this time.

“While the pain is significant, this is actually a good sign. I'll be fine, Chris.” Wesker hugged him too, then moved back a bit. “Please take care of yourself.”

"I will," Chris promised, sitting up and looking at him. He reached and wiped the blood off of Wesker's cheek one more time like he was wiping away tears, smiling sadly. "When this is all over, I'll have a lot of missed kisses to make up for." He slid off of the bed, tucked the blankets in around Wesker's side gently, and made his way to the door. 

They had a zombie horde to move, and the sooner, the better.  


* * *

  
There was a jarringly loud beep from across the room as the tablet spit out a small vial on to the counter top. 

Piers sat up with a jolt. He had been dozing across from Sherry and looked very confused about where the sound had come from. Rubbing his cheek, he glanced over at the kitchen area with a frown. Sherry looked too. The little blond was playing pyramid with some cards she had found.

“Is that the shot?”

Jake sat up from where he had leaned his elbows on the little counter lab area, moving to pick the vial up quickly. He'd been tensely silent since Chris had gone into the bedroom, waiting for some sign that they were going to put their plan into motion. Wesker WAS a distraction, but not telling Chris seemed wrong, too.

"Yeah, this is it," he answered Piers, waving him over. 

The short man's shoulders slumped but he joined Jake by the lab and rolled up his sleeve.

“At least I stayed normal until now.”

Jake reached for his hand when he stepped over, but then just held onto it, checking the time on the clock instead of readying the syringe. 

"He said to wait at least an hour before giving this to you. It feels like it's been that long, but I'm not sure..."

Piers glanced at the clock too. 

“Was that when you guys were talking earlier?” He nodded. “That was about an hour ago, yeah.”

Sherry watched them critically.

Jake frowned and patted the hand he still held with his other. 

"Let's wait a few more minutes. Just to be safe," he said. "We should do it before we start moving again, though."

As if on cue, Chris stepped out of the bedroom, pulling off bloodied gloves and looking grim. 

"Okay. Time to move some zombies."

Waving with his free hand, Piers turned to Chris. 

“Is he okay?” He asked quietly. It would be easy to assume he was worried about Wesker because of the cure – but the small soldier seemed to be fond of him for some reason.

Jake turned on his chair, looking dubiously at the gloves. 

"He's resting," Chris said quietly, stepping toward the door. He paused and looked at the vial that Jake was holding, then moved over next to him instead. "Jake."

"Yeah," Jake said flatly. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. 

Chris glanced back at the bedroom door. 

"He won't like it, but I need you to keep an eye on Wesker for me. Check in on him."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll watch everybody in here," Jake assured him. 

Rather reluctantly, Chris nodded and headed out the door.

Piers watched him go sadly and then glanced back at the bedroom door. He tugged lightly on the hand that Jake still held. 

“We should just do it now. I think waiting too long could be worse then using it too early. Plus...” He cleared his throat. “I want to go sit with Wesker.”

“No.” Sherry got up and joined them, crossing her arms. “That's a bad idea.”

“But it's not like I can infect him – and the straps are in there.”

Jake shrugged and picked up the syringe, carefully filling it from the vial. 

"You're not worried he'll do anything that's dangerous to YOU?"

“No.” Piers shook his head firmly.

Sherry still looked uncomfortable about it but relented, returning to the table. But as she reached it, she paused. 

“Hey.” The blond waved to them. “I'm going to go watch from the front.” She went off toward the cab.

Jake watched her go, frowning a little. Sherry was definitely bothered every time Piers had to go through some terrible side effect. He was, too, but not treating him would be much worse.

"...I'll be checking in on you guys," he promised Piers. "Here, give me your hand again." He held out his free hand, the other still holding the syringe.

Piers obliged. 

“I know what he's dealing with right now. I just want to keep him company until it's over – you did that for me and I think that's the only reason I made it through.” He smiled a little up at Jake.

The redhead squeezed his hand, feeling his cheeks warm. Piers smiling and looking up at him like that was disarming. 

"Yeah, this's reminding me of that," he admitted. "I don't like it. If you wanna be in there, I'm not gonna tell you that you can't, but he might get pissed off about it."

Turning the brunette's wrist, he carefully pressed the needle into his skin. As usual, the amount in the shot was very small, but likely potent.

“He can get pissed all he wants to – he shouldn't be alone. I mean,” the brunette shook his head sadly, “he just died.” Piers pressed a finger over the needle hole and sighed slowly. “...Do you think I'll always have to do this? Get shots?”

"Hope not," Jake admitted, placing the syringe on the table. He turned back to Piers and stepped closer, slipping one arm around his shoulders to hug him. "If that's how it's gonna be, though, then I'll just get used to settin' an alarm so we don't forget."

Having to take injections daily wasn't so bad — the side effects that came with them were. He really hoped that those could be dealt with.

Piers reached up and turned Jake's face towards him to kiss his cheek. Then he blushed and patted the taller man's chest.

“I'll have to start wearing a watch again.”

Jake tilted his head, studied the brunette's expression for a moment. Piers looked okay right now — with the blushing, he didn't even look terribly pale anymore for the moment. It was frustrating to think that he'd probably be feeling ill in a few minutes, and that they had to make him feel that way in order to keep him from getting even worse.

He bowed his head and kissed Piers on the cheek in return gently, sighing. 

"C'mon, let's get you settled in there."

Piers nodded and took his hand, leading him back to the bedroom.

Wesker was laying in the middle of the bed on his side. His face was still bleeding horrifically, but he seemed like he might actually be asleep. As they came closer though, he picked his head up slightly to listen to them.

Perching on the side of the bed with the straps, Piers cleared his throat. 

“Hey. Sorry. The straps are in here.”

Without commenting, Wesker scooted a little further to the side to make room for him.

Jake stepped over to the side of the bed to fasten the strap there to Piers' nearest wrist, glancing sidelong at his father while trying to seem like he wasn't actually looking. Yep, bleeding from the eyes looked every bit as awful on Wesker as it had on Piers. It made the blond look like he was dying, or had had his eyes gouged out at the very least. Ugh. 

Straightening, he stepped over to retrieve several extra blankets, spreading one over Piers and another over Wesker without comment. If he didn't like it, tough. He was half laying on the blanket he'd had before. 

The blond flinched at the blanket, instantly gripping it. But he let go after a second of consideration and laid back down tiredly. It didn't seem like he was up to objecting even if he wanted to. Wiping weakly at his mouth with a hand, he stifled a ragged cough.

Piers cringed at the cough and settled down into bed. At least with only one strap he could lay on his side. He slid his arm under his pillow and hugged it tightly, watching Wesker sadly.

Jake tucked the blanket in around the little brunette carefully. He knew better than to try tucking Wesker in. 

"Is there anything you guys need?" He lingered beside the bed, placing a hand on Piers' shoulder. The sniper hadn't shown any reaction to the treatment yet, and he was afraid that would crop up just after he left or something.

“Maybe a bottle of water?” Piers asked. Then he glanced at Wesker and added softly. “And a—”

There was a sharp pause in Wesker's breathing for a few seconds. Piers looked his way worriedly, but the blond's chest starting moving again after a moment.

The short man looked relieved and turned his attention back to Jake. 

“A f-fresh towel.”

Jake nodded seriously and moved to get the requested items. Wesker didn't seem to be doing very well. Better than dead, obviously, but not exactly good, either.

He ducked into the kitchen for the water, back by the shower for the towel, and returned quickly. Handing Piers the water, he turned to Wesker and frowned.

"Hey, I'm gonna switch the towels," he warned, reaching to carefully lift the blond's head from the bloodied towel he was resting it on.

Wesker didn't acknowledge him. He still seemed to be in a daze. But when Jake moved the towel, he opened his eyes again. Aside from the continuous flow of blood down his chin, his face was glowing with a fever. Piers watched them, gray eyes wide in alarm. 

“Maybe he shouldn't be sleeping?”

Jake carefully slipped the new folded towel under the blond man's head and lowered him down to rest on it again. Then he felt Wesker's forehead. 

"He's burnin' up. It's just like it was with you, but we weren't trying to cure him. Damn it...HE'S the one that could fix this."

Piers scooted as close as he could and craned his neck to look at Wesker. 

“Rebecca maybe?”

"The virus stuff isn't her thing, but she might be the only choice we've got," Jake admitted, sitting up. He wiped a bit of blood off of his hand onto the towel and then patted Piers' shoulder. "Keep an eye on him for me, I'll find her and see what we can do. If you need anything, just holler — I'll be nearby," he promised.

“Okay. Try to hurry and um, don't tell Chris. I don't know if he should see this.” Piers nodded and reached a hand over to pat Wesker's shoulder.

Jake glanced at the blond and nodded once. 

"Yeah, I think you're right." He turned and headed out the door before he could let himself linger any longer. Piers seemed okay. The past few times he'd had a bad reaction to his treatments, it had started within a minute. 

Right now they had to try and find some help for Wesker.  


* * *

  
"I just hope the formula works," Rebecca repeated again, shifting a bit. She and Billy were keeping watch, him from the Jeep and her sitting on top of the RV with her feet dangling over the side. 

Chris, Claire and Leon were on the move getting their repellent-carrying zombies ready to lead them through the horde. Chris had told her it was better if they weren't all over there right now; pouring repellent onto zombie clothes probably wasn't even a three-person job.

“It worked on that Wesker guy,” the tattooed man said, watching the zombies milling around the three as they worked. Billy had spent most of his time with the group outside in the Jeep and didn't seem too eager to get to know the others – despite how much Rebecca trusted them. He was using the quiet before the storm to clean his magnum – with his other pistol nearby on the Jeep's empty passenger seat.

The little brunette looked down at him unhappily. 

"Well, yes. But Captain Wesker's got a lot more viruses in his blood than these zombies. Even in the test before, the repellent didn't kill the zombie, it just repelled him. It seems to work a lot better on Wesker."

“Too bad he can't fix it up to kill them,” Billy added thoughtfully. Clicking the last piece back in place, he tucked his magnum away and got out of the Jeep. He slowly stretched, glancing around up at the storm. “How long do you think this storm'll hang around, anyway?”

Shading her eyes, Rebecca glanced around as well. 

"Awhile. It's been raining hard, but the sky is still pretty dark." She sighed. "...If Captain Wesker modified the formula to be that strong, just being near the area where it's made could kill him. Again. But maybe I could get him to tweak the formula and then I could handle making it..."

She looked down at the RV, then to the ground. "I-I'm not sure there's still time to do that. We made a big jug of the current formula for this."

Billy came over and leaned on the ladder, smiling up at her. 

“I was talking future stuff. You know, when we reach the mysterious mountains and find paradise.” He waved an arm dramatically. “With unlimited coffee,” her boyfriend added as he stifled a yawn.

Rebecca had to smile at that. 

"Right now I'd settle for somewhere where thugs and monsters don't try to kill us every night while we sleep." 

She got to her feet and moved to climb down the RV ladder, stepping over next to the Jeep. The wind gusted again, rocking the RV gently. The stench of the zombie horde carried there from the road, along with a sharp chemical odor. The repellent.

Billy fanned the smell away with a hand, cringing. He followed her back to the Jeep. 

“The coffee would help with that. We wouldn't have to sleep so much.”

"I think it would help even if I kept sleeping this much," Rebecca said sheepishly, smiling at his expression. She was about to say more, but the sound of the RV door opening interrupted her. 

Turning, she saw Jake stepping out the door. 

"Hey," the redhead said grimly, "You got a minute?"

"Of course — we're just waiting for Chris to get done preparing the zombies," the brunette said, stepping over toward the door. 

"What is it?"

Jake frowned and glanced back into the door. 

"...I'll show ya."

Rebecca turned back to Billy. 

"I'll be right back."

Billy frowned but nodded. He climbed back up into the Jeep in case they had to move before she returned.

Turning back to the RV, Rebecca saw that Jake had already headed back inside. He seemed like he was carefully not telling her what this was about...which was worrisome. If it had to do with chemistry, Wesker would've been the one talking about it. Maybe Sherry or Piers needed some kind of medical help...

She climbed inside the RV and closed the door behind her. 

"Okay, what's this about?" She saw that Jake was over by the bedroom door and started that way as well. Nobody else was out in the main room, she realized worriedly. No Sherry, no Piers, no Wesker...

Opening the door, Jake gestured for her to step inside. 

"Wesker's not doing that great. I'm not sure he's gonna just get better on his own."

He said it very quietly, like he didn't want the blond man on the bed to overhear. That seemed uncharacteristic...until Rebecca moved over to the bedside and saw Piers laying there, too. 

She blinked and leaned to look at him and Wesker. 

Wesker was bleeding from his eyes, nose and mouth so much that it dripped off of his chin on to the towel. Piers was perched up on his elbow watching him sadly. He looked up at them when they came in and was relieved to see Rebecca.

“He keeps falling asleep,” Piers said softly, patting the dozing blond's shoulder. 

Rebecca looked at Jake, blinking. When the redhead shrugged, she frowned and turned back to the bed, moving around to the side Wesker was on. 

"I-I'll see what I can do. Did he do anything differently, or is this still a reaction to that shot of your blood that we gave him?"

"The only thing he did since then was make the next treatment for Piers," Jake said, glancing at his father. He frowned. "He broke a vial of something, but he was already shaky to drop it in the first place. That's all, though."

Nodding, Rebecca stepped out into the living room. This would take her gloves for sure.


	37. Nightmares

The soft scent of citrus drifted to Chris's nose. Fresh. As his eyes suddenly focused, he was looking at a pile of bright fruits. Big oranges, lemons and limes. The colors were so vibrant. The scent was so strong. He then noticed that he was holding something... 

A large, beautiful orange. 

Sound snapped in around him so sharply it felt like his ears had popped. People bustling and talking, kids giggling and the far off sounds of beeping cash registers.

A grocery store?

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen this much food in one place — or this many people that weren't walking corpses. Bright sunlight shone in through the store's glass windows and big sliding doors. It was so peaceful that it felt wrong, and set off alarms in his head. 

Chris dropped the orange and took a big step back from some passing shoppers, glancing around quickly like anyone could lunge and bite him. He felt like he should be running, or finding a weapon, even as his mind finally registered where he was.

The dream world. Of course.

“Chris?” A hand rested on his back suddenly as Al came over to him. “Are you alright?” The blond looked a little tired and bleary eyed, but still alarmed at how strangely his husband was acting.

The little Piers zipped past their legs, laughing happily. He was holding a small honeydew melon and looking behind him with a big grin.

“You can't catch me!”

Al ignored him, keeping his focus on Chris.

"Wesker," Chris replied faintly, focusing on him. The dream version of him looked exhausted, but practically flawless compared to the real one. Chris still didn't even know where the blond was, whether he'd made it to safety. 

Memories of gunshots and fire flashed through his mind — rain and the stink of rotten flesh burning, the sound of it sizzling. He felt sick. What if Wesker didn't make it out of that? 

"I-I should've stayed with you," he told his husband heavily, even though he wouldn't know what that meant. It was just a dream, anyway. He needed to wake up and get back there.

Al tilted his head, frowning. 

“What?” He bent and picked up the orange, offering it back to Chris. “I...don't want to ask what that means,” he added sadly.

Accepting the orange back, Chris turned it over in his hands and looked at it sadly. The only way he'd gotten out of the dreams before was to go to sleep while in them, but they were nowhere near home. Were they? Maybe the grocery store was right down the street.

He glanced around again, this time taking note of small details. It looked bright and sunny out. He turned back to Wesker, noting again how tired his blue eyes looked. His husband knew nothing of the real world he was reacting to.

He forced a smile. 

"Sorry. It's nothing."

Al just gave him a frown and headed off – apparently to pick Jake up at the end of the aisle. He scooped him up and gave him a hug randomly, placing a kiss on his head.

Bummed that Jake wasn't following him anymore, Piers circled back and placed the melon up on the stand again. His arm was out of its sling, even though the sling was still over his shoulder.

He looked up at Chris curiously and then glanced at Al, no doubt picking up on the frown.

Chris felt about as weary as Wesker looked right now. His body didn't feel tired here, but his mind certainly did. 

Stepping closer, he picked Piers up and hugged him as well. 

"Don't wear your arm out — it's still getting better."

Little Jake seemed to pick up on Al's mood, too. He looped both arms around his father's neck and leaned against him.

"Are we gonna go home now?"

Piers hugged his dad too, looking worriedly at Wesker as he started back toward them.

“Is daddy mad?” He whispered.

“It depends," the blond was saying to Jake. "Your dad didn't seem to like the oranges,” Al added softly, coming back closer to Chris. Those crystal blue eyes were fixed on him. It had been quite awhile since Chris had visited the dreamscape – had they had another fight?

His husband's mannerisms certainly made it seem like it. It was probably over something stupid, too — likely something stupid that his other self had been up to while he was gone, like getting drunk again. Chris frowned just thinking about that. He had no reason to be an alcoholic in this place.

For the moment, though, it felt just as real as ever. He looked from Wesker's clear blue eyes to Piers' big gray ones, then over to Jake. The little redhead had an identical intent stare to match his father's. 

"Uh...what else do we need to buy?" He asked them uncertainly.

Al shook his head and sat Jake back down. 

“Keep an eye on the kids.” From his tone of voice, it sounded like 'I knew you couldn't do this' should have been added to that sentence – but the blond man pushed their cart along and started off slowly. 

The little boy in Chris's arms watched Wesker pass with a scared frown.

“Why's daddy mad?”

Chris looked down at him apologetically. 

"Pretty sure it's my fault. He's definitely not mad at you," he promised, stepping over to take one of Jake's hands as well. "C'mon, we better go with him."

His husband was already ahead of them, picking things out of the shelves like it was second nature.

“Aw, they're so sweet,” a woman said from nearby. That voice...

Blinking, he turned quickly to see who had spoken. It was his dream, anybody could show up, but was it really...?

Sheva was kneeling in front of him, holding out a hand to Jake.

“Hello there. I think I saw you last time with your daddy. Is this your uncle?” She asked nicely, standing back up to look at Chris. “They're so well behaved.”

Piers smiled a little and waved to her shyly.

“Hi lady!”

“Hello Piers,” she replied. “What happened to your arm, sweetheart?”

“I jumped out of a tree!”

Chris couldn't help smiling. He hadn't seen Sheva in years. The African woman was just as he remembered — petite and lovely, but with a definite strength about her.

"I'm their father," he said, smiling warmly at her. "It's nice to meet you." 

Little Jake gave Sheva an intent look and then stuck out a hand for her to shake. 

Still smiling brightly, Sheva took the offered hand and shook it.

“Two dads? Aren't you lucky.”

“Yeah, we get to eat blueberry pancakes all the time,” Piers said proudly.

Sheva just laughed. It was then that Chris noticed her clothes. She was wearing a medium green polo and black slacks – like all the other employees in the store.

Tilting his head, he blinked.

"Sheva, you work here?"

Jake looked up at him, still holding onto the nice lady's hand.

Tapping her name tag, the petite woman nodded. 

“My second week. How am I doing?” She asked Jake, finally letting go of his hand.

"Good," the little redhead said seriously. "Where'd you work before here?"

Chris glanced down at him, then back to Sheva. He was curious, too. The dream was starting to become a nice diversion from real life. It was good to see Sheva again, even here.

“A cafe,” the woman said nicely, ruffling Jake's hair. “I served people pie. It's great to see you, but I have to get back to work.” She waved to Chris. “Say hi to Al for me.” 

“Bye!” Piers called after her happily.

"She's nice," Jake declared, watching her go.

Reminded that Wesker was still shopping somewhere in the store, Chris started to lead the kid in the direction his husband had gone.

"Yeah, she seems like a nice lady. Let's go find daddy, okay?"

Then maybe he could give his husband a kiss before going back to real life, where he might be dead again.

Wesker was picking through the fresh produce with a sad scowl – taking far too long to look over a broccoli crown.

As soon as they got close, Piers waved his good arm. 

“Dad! Can me and Jake go find the blueberries?”

"Al," Chris sighed, stepping over next to him. 

He wanted to say more, but wasn't sure what to add. Wesker looked really tired and unhappy.

Al looked at him tiredly, shoving the broccoli into a bag. 

“Yes?”

Piers squirmed in Chris's arms.

“Dad, dad! I see them!” He pointed eagerly off toward the stacked boxes of blueberries.

"We'll go grab some in a second," Chris promised him, glancing back to Wesker. "Al." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Did you pull another all-nighter last night?"

The blond man shrugged a shoulder.

“I'll be okay. Do you want steak or fish tonight?” He added dully, dropping the broccoli into their cart. “I'm leaning more toward steak, myself.”

Chris sighed and shrugged. 

"Steak, then. Or we could order in. You don't have to cook."

"Daddy, can we get peanut butter?" Jake interrupted, looking at Wesker sadly.

“We don't order in,” Al said, giving Chris a raised eyebrow. He pointed off down the aisles. “It's right over there, Jake. We'll get it before we go...”

“But dad ordered a breakfast pizza! It had pineapple,” Piers explained happily, sticking his tiny hand on Chris's face.

“Did he,” his husband said sourly, crossing his arms.

Chris offered a sheepish smile in return. 

"Just the one time. It was that or feed them what I tried to cook," he told Wesker. "...Al, please, you look really tired." 

Jake frowned up at Wesker. 

"You need coffee, daddy."

With a sigh, Al turned and pushed the cart along. 

“I'll drink coffee when I get home.” He stopped again though and turned back to Chris, a pale hand rubbing his forehead. “I think I caught something at work. Not from a vial – Bill's been a little under the weather lately,” he added quickly. 

"What?" Chris let go of Jake's hand to reach for his husband's shoulder. "And you still pulled an all-nighter? Al..." He sighed. 

“We're so close. If we can just get it to...” The blond man trailed off into a mumble, glancing around at all the passersby. He placed a hand over Chris's. “Let's just get out of here. We'll order in.”

Piers' eyebrows pinched sadly.

“No blueberries?”

Al ruffled Piers' hair gently. 

“I'll grab them – and the peanut butter,” he added for Jake's benefit. “Just a moment.” Slumping a little, Al headed off toward the PB aisle.

Placing Piers in the front of the cart, Chris pushed it over to the blueberry table to pick some out. The move seemed to surprise Jake, who followed a bit wide-eyed. Apparently the dream version of Chris would have just stood there and let Wesker go pick out both items, even as exhausted as he looked.

“Dad, can Sherry come over?” Piers asked, grabbing onto the side of the cart. “Our restaurant is losing profit,” he said cutely, fumbling through the words. Big gray eyes turned up to him again. “She hasn't been over in forever! Did daddy and Bill fight?”

Chris blinked at the rather wordy sentence coming from the toddler. 

"I don't know, Piers. I don't think daddy's mad at anybody, he's just really tired." 

Taking Jake's hand again, he led the kid along, pushing the cart with one hand and heading down the peanut butter aisle. Wesker was taking a long time.

His husband was standing in the aisle, a jar of peanut butter in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He was texting.

Heading over there with the kids and the cart, Chris did his best to smile instead of being annoyed. Hey, he wasn't going to be here for long, most likely.

"Letting Bill know you're staying home tonight?"

Al looked up at him and shook his head.

“He's having trouble getting it to...I think I might have to go back in tonight.” He mumbled, running a hand through his hair sleepily. He poked at the phone for a second and then slid it back into the pocket of his jacket. He looked at Chris with tired blue eyes. “We should check out.”

Reminding himself that Piers and Jake could hear their conversation, Chris decided to hold off on arguing until they got home. If he was still dreaming by then.

"Okay," he sighed, "I got the blueberries, let's go."

Checkout and the drive home were quiet. The kids seemed worn out from all their running around, and Al was distracted, hearing his phone buzz on and off the entire way.

After what seemed like forever – probably only ten minutes – they pulled up to the house. It was a bright and sunny day and the lawn looked vibrant against the neutrally toned houses. 

The tree, Chris noted, was no longer in the yard. There was a little potted plant sitting on the spot where it used to be — no doubt to cover up the hole in the turf from the stump. Since Al looked so tired, he was quick to scoop up the grocery bags before the blond got the chance to grab any.

As he turned to head inside, he noticed someone standing on the front steps. Two someones.

Little Sherry, waving excitedly to Piers and holding her father's hand – Birkin. He cringed at seeing Chris, shoving his free hand into his pocket.

Al turned to help the kids out of the car.

Chris stopped in front of them, grocery bags in hand, and fixed the skinny blond with a flat, intent stare. No comment, just the stare.

At least he'd had to wait outside this time since Chris had taken the spare key back.

Sherry looked up at Chris and smiled brightly. She was in a pair of cute green overalls and a white blouse – matching the warm summer weather.

“Hi uncle Chris!”

Her father straightened a little and nodded to Chris. 

“H-hello again.”

“Bill,” Al said as he walked up to them. “What are you doing here?”

Birkin sighed and let go of Sherry's hand – releasing her to rip off across the lawn to Piers. Chris looming so close seemed to make him shift a lot on his feet.

“Look, we n-need to get this done.”

"I can think of a few ways to end it real fast," Chris told him, frowning. "Apparently you're not too busy to show up randomly at our house."

Little Jake was lingering over with Piers and Sherry without protest for once. He didn't seem that fond of Bill, either.

“Chris,” Al hissed at him, frowning. He stepped up to unlock the door and waved Bill inside. “Let's talk in my office.”

But the skinny scientist hesitated, glancing at Chris out of the corner of his eye.

“No...no. We need the f-files at the lab. I'll meet you there,” he said quickly, already hurrying off toward his car. He paused to snag Sherry, who protested loudly – dragging her feet.

“I don't wanna go home! We just got here!” She yelled, yanking on Birkin's hand. The blond stopped and turned to her, shaking his head.

“We aren't here to visit. I told you that earlier, remember?”

Piers immediately came over to Chris, staring up at him with big tearful gray eyes.

“Why does Sherry have to go?”

Al sighed heavily and went inside.

Chris stepped after Bill, though, still frowning — and carrying along the groceries.

"You take your kid to the lab with you?" 

Bill jumped, scooping Sherry up and hugging her protectively. 

“No, we were on the w-way home.” Then he frowned. “But that's none of your business.”

“Bye uncle Chris,” Sherry said sadly, hugging her dad's neck. 

Chris shot the little girl a sympathetic look before focusing on Bill again.

"Al's not going to work tonight," he informed the blond matter-of-factly.

Turning and sitting Sherry in the car, Birkin closed the door and then turned back to Chris.

“That's not up to you.”

Shaking his head, he got into his car and promptly sped off.

Wondering if the real Birkin had ever been this much of a pain, Chris headed inside the house. Jake and Piers had been standing there on the lawn staring at him right up until he turned around; they were just disappearing inside by the time he got to the front steps again.

Taking a deep breath, the brunette prepared himself for what could only be a fight with Wesker and stepped inside, closing the front door behind him.

"Al?" He headed to the kitchen to put the grocery bags on the counter.

“Go to your rooms,” he heard Wesker say from the living room.

“Are we in trouble?” Piers asked sadly.

“No, no. Me and Dad need to talk before dinner. Go play in your rooms – we'll call you when dinner's ready. Okay?”

Chris turned to ruffle Piers' hair, smiling. 

"Nobody's in trouble. Go on. You, too, Jake." 

The little redhead shot him a rather suspicious look, but did an about-face and headed for the hallway to the bedrooms without comment.

Piers hurried after him, taking his brother's hand. 

“Can I play in your room? Please?”

Wesker stood in the hall door and watched them go.

Jake still seemed bothered about something — as with Sherry before, he didn't protest taking Piers with him. The kids retreated into the redhead's room and closed the door very quietly.

The moment the door was shut, Chris turned back to Wesker.

Al didn't turn toward him though and remained leaning against the door frame. 

“I'm too tired to do this right now,” he said quietly, hugging himself. “But I...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don't even know where to start.”

"I do." Chris stepped over to him, looking at him unhappily. "But you already know what I'm going to say anyway, don't you? And you don't plan on listening, either."

“I can't just stop running when I see the finish line,” his husband said, ducking away from him and heading into the kitchen. “We've been working on this for years! There are people waiting on our research – people on their last days!”

He started unpacking the groceries, discarding his gray jacket on a chair.

Chris crossed his arms, leaning back against the kitchen counter. 

"For somebody who's in sight of the finish line after years, you'd think you'd know how to pace yourself by now," he replied flatly.

“Don't start with that 'pacing yourself' lecture – I've heard it before,” Al grumbled, shoving the blueberries into the fridge and slamming the door. “When I gave it to you about your drinking. Over and over again. What is it? What the hell am I doing SO wrong to make you have to drink to stay here?”

Hiding the hurt on his face with a hand, Al turned and rummaged through the bags again.

"You wanna talk about me? Fine, stick around for once and we'll talk," Chris replied, frowning. He didn't want to pick a fight...but then again, maybe that would distract Wesker from going to the lab. 

Al scoffed and shook his head. He turned around and looked Chris down with a pair of icy blue eyes. 

“We agreed when we got married that you would stay home. You wanted to – you wanted to be here, to actually know our kids before they were shoved off to school. But somehow I ended up doing everything.” He held up a hand in case Chris tried to interrupt. 

“The worst part is that it didn't bother me. I didn't mind. I let you do whatever you want. Lay around. Get drunk. Try to tell me what I can and can't do – but I'm sick of it,” he hissed. “I love you and you seem to spend every waking moment making my life harder!”

Chris felt his brows furrowing sadly, looking from his husband to the kitchen tiles. He'd kind of already known how things were, but it was still pretty ugly to hear them declared.

What was wrong with the Chris in his place? It seemed like he took everything that he had for granted. Abruptly, Chris remembered the note he'd written to himself the last time he'd been in the dream world. Had his other self replied?

He brought a hand up over his heart, feeling the chest pocket of his shirt. No crinkle of paper...

"Is that why you're doing this?" He asked quietly, sighing. "Working yourself to death? What, are you gonna hurt yourself to get back at me? Or is it just nice to spend time over there with Bill and not have to deal with me for once?"

He didn't really feel angry about the whole situation — a bit numb, really. So much for a perfect fantasy world to escape to. He and Wesker couldn't seem to be happy no matter where they were.

Al shook his head slowly and leaned on the counter, propping his head up in his hands.

“Yes. I'll admit it. I hid at work a lot. But you've been so furious lately.” He sat back up and Chris could see tears in his eyes. “You won't let us work here – you don't want me to work there. All my bosses are already pissed that this is taking so long. What am I supposed to do? I don't want you to drink – but if I work, you drink.” He placed a hand over his head and took a ragged breath.

“What do you want from me, Chris?”

Chris sat up, wondering what to say. Any real fight with Wesker would have turned into a physical brawl by now, probably involving heavy artillery, so he really had no idea how to deal with the tears. Tears he was apparently to blame for.

Even just here in the dream, he couldn't leave it like that.

He stepped over, reaching to gently place a hand on the blond's shoulder.

"Just you," he sighed. "Here. With me."

“It doesn't work like that. I wish it did,” Al said glumly, shaking his head. He wiped at the tears on his face, fighting to regain his composure. His cheeks were rosy but somehow he looked paler than before. His lips were pale. “I can't lose this job – not now. I can change the world, Chris.” He looked at his husband, blue eyes distant. “Our world.” Reaching out, Al took his hand.

Chris gripped his hand and stepped closer, slipping the other arm around the blond's waist. 

"I'm sorry...I've been awful," he whispered, hugging his husband close. "I'm sorry..." This could be the last time he ever got to hug Wesker. When he woke up, the real one would almost certainly be gone for good.

They'd run out of time again.

Al looped an arm around his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

“I-I,” The blond stammered, squeezing Chris tightly then suddenly letting him go. “I think I'm going to puke.” He promptly turned and retched, throwing up into the sink.

Sighing, Chris placed a hand on the blond's back, rubbing in a little circle gently. Whatever his other self decided to do afterward, he was determined to take care of his husband while he was here.

“I'm sorry.” Al groaned, leaning on the counter top. He rested his head on the side of the sink and closed his eyes – feeling around the counter for the paper towel. “I p-promise I'll be home more after all this.” He added softly, eyebrows pinching. 

A bit guiltily, Chris grabbed some sheets of the paper towel and pressed them into his hand to wipe his mouth with.

"It's not your fault," he said unhappily, slipping an arm around the blond again and scooping him up to cradle against his chest. "You're right, I'm not pulling my weight."

“No, I didn't mean that. I love taking care of you,” Al said, gently hugging Chris again. He laid his head against the brunette man's shoulder and sighed. “I just want you to be happy.”

"It's okay, you've got every reason to be angry. I'm not good with the kids, I'm useless in the kitchen, there's the damned drinking thing..." Chris sighed and kissed the blond's forehead. "You wouldn't be so exhausted if I didn't let you take everything on yourself. That's not fair." 

He started slowly toward the hallway. Wesker needed to be resting in bed, whether Bill got stood up at the lab or not.

“Honestly, Chris – I love cooking for you. I'll pick up some steak and be home by six,” the blond said softly, sitting up a bit. “If we're done or not.”

Chris stopped in the doorway to the bedroom, looking him in the eyes.

"No. I don't even want you standing long enough to cook — I sure as hell don't want you driving right now."

Wesker looked back at him, blinking slowly.

“You want me to stay,” he said at last. Looking over the bedroom tiredly, Al nodded. “Alright.”

A bit surprised at how easily he'd agreed, Chris moved over and placed the blond carefully onto the bed. 

"Not because I don't want you to work," he promised. "Because you're sick and you need to rest. Okay?"

Al sat back up and sighed. He slowly fumbled his way through getting undressed, stripping down to his boxers and undershirt before retreating under the blankets.

He looked at Chris miserably.

“Please order in.”

"Don't worry, I'm not going to try to cook anything," Chris assured him. He leaned and tucked the blankets around the blond a little. "And I'll bring you your phone, if you want to call Bill."

The blond nodded and laid his head back down on the pillow. His skin looked a little clammy. After dealing with all the infections and viruses in real life, a case of the flu seemed so insignificant.

Chris thought that he should head back to the kitchen now, but he was reluctant to do so. These dreams never lasted that long. If he let Wesker out of his sight, he might not see him again. 

He took a deep breath and looked around the comfortable room, a lump in his throat. He didn't really want to go back. Not if Wesker wasn't there.

"Hey..." He sat on the edge of the bed, turning and taking one of his husband's hands. "I-I love you." He'd only ever said that to the real Wesker once — once, in all the years they'd known each other.

Al squeezed his hand gently in return, looking up at him with hazy blue eyes.

“I love you too,” he said quietly. “I know I already said it, b-but I'm sorry. I'll try to be home by dinner from now on. No matter what,” he added sadly, closing his eyes. 

"I'm sorry, too." The other him was the one who should be apologizing, not Wesker. He squeezed the hand he held before letting it go, standing and forcing himself toward the door.

He really didn't want to go, but there was nobody else to get dinner for the kids. It might just be some dream to him, but to them things would continue no matter what. Al deserved somebody responsible to take care of him for once.  


* * *

  
Stumbling around in the dark in a forest was not Jake's favorite pastime. Neither was hauling his father along. Wesker's head lulled off to the side as they walked, his eyes distant.

Piers and Sherry walked ahead of them, with the small sniper's arm wrapped protectively over the blond's shoulders. Every one of them was covered in blood, mud and wet leaves.

The two shorter people paused and Piers looked back at Jake and his father.

“How's he doing?”

Jake stopped, looking around them.

"...Let's rest for a few minutes, and I'll check on him." Wesker had been very quiet for awhile now. If Jake couldn't hear him breathing, he could have easily mistaken the man for dead.

Piers found Sherry a dry root to perch on and stood guard beside her, squinting off into the dark woods around them. They hadn't heard any footsteps or groaning – so that was a good sign.

As for Wesker...

His breathing was ragged again and his lips were as white as his face was. The glowing fever that plagued him before had been replaced by shivering.

Pulling one of his gloves off, Jake felt the blond's forehead just to be sure. He felt cold — which was normal for him, but not after the fever.

"How're you two holding up?" He asked, frowning at his father. Wesker looked pretty terrible. 

“Hm?” Wesker replied vaguely, blinking up at him with hazy blue eyes. He frowned and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Miles – they'll f-find us. We s-should crawl under the...bed.”

Piers glanced back at them and gave Jake a thumbs up.

Jake blinked, turning back to Wesker. He patted the blond's cheek. 

"Hey. Snap out of it, there's no Miles here." Being delirious made no sense — he wasn't feverish anymore.

Then again, Piers had drifted in and out of seeing things for awhile.

A hand snapped over his, and Wesker scowled. 

“Don't – they'll know.” 

His grip lightened quickly though and he let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and laying back.

“Shh,” he whispered sleepily, head falling to one side. “It'll be okay.”

Sherry looked over at them and frowned, hugging Piers.

“That's creepy. Is he dreaming?”

Dubiously, Jake sat back in a crouch and put his glove back on.

"They say sharks sleep with their eyes open."

Wesker gasped sharply, gritting his teeth. He coughed and writhed – clawing at his chest in pain.

Taking a scared Sherry by the hand, Piers led her back over to them.

“Should we stop for the night? We don't even know which way we're going.”

Jake held up a hand. 

"Just...just stay back a bit, okay?" Shooting Wesker another frown, he got to his feet and stepped over near Piers and Sherry instead, crossing his arms. "Yeah, let's stay here for now. 'Til it's light out, at least." He glanced back at his father over his shoulder, adding quietly, "It's not lookin' good for him."

Piers looked too and nodded grimly. 

“We should find somewhere to lay down for awhile. We passed a fallen tree a few minutes ago – we could probably hide under there. Just in case someone followed us.” He frowned at Wesker. “I don't know what you're gonna do with him. You're right, he can't be near Sherry right now.”

“Agreed,” the little blond woman sighed, hugging herself.

"I'm pretty sure all of those drugged up psychos got munched back on the road," Jake replied, frowning. "But yeah, the tree's not a bad idea. Try and pile some leaves or branches or something, anything to warm up." 

He spoke like he wasn't going to be with them when they set up camp. Splitting up was crazy, though — he planned to haul Wesker along and stay within sight.

Piers actually laughed a little, taking Sherry's hand again.

“Believe it or not, I know how to survive in the woods. Done it before.” They started back the way they had come, carefully sidestepping around Wesker. Piers' cute smile faded quickly as he watched the scientist shaking in pain. The brunette turned back to Jake and cleared his throat. “Maybe we should start a fire.”

"If you can find anything out here that'll burn, be my guest." Jake looked from him to Sherry briefly before kneeling back down to check on Wesker. Rebecca had been preparing a treatment for him. If they had her with them now, they might be able to at least understand what was happening to him. The petite medic had disappeared in the chaos like everybody else, though.

Trying to get the RV through that horde...what a nightmare. The road had been choked with zombies and dead cars, but the repellent had worked like a charm...for a little while. It had chosen to wear off right when the RV got hung up on a dead car in the middle of the roadway. As luck would have it, Rebecca's "old friends" the drug runners had shown up around the same time. Everything after that was a big rush of gunfire, explosions, walking corpses, and mud. The group had scattered who knew how many directions to get away from the zombies.

How long had they even been walking? Jake was pretty sure he saw the sky beginning to lighten a little. 

A cold hand reached up and grabbed his shoulder as Wesker tried to get up. He wasn't nearly coordinated enough to actually do it, and ended up just flopping onto his side back into the mud.

His eyes and nose were bleeding again.

Turning his attention back to the blond, Jake grabbed the hand on his shoulder grimly. 

"Hey. Wesker. You in there?"

“I'm so sorry. It w-won't happen again,” Wesker whispered, a hurt expression washing over his face. It was a jarring change from his usual calm. “I'm so sorry...” He echoed, rolling his face into the mud and leaves.

Sighing, Jake sat down beside him, resting his arms on top of his knees. 

"Okay, now you're just startin' to weird me out."

He couldn't deny wondering what could possibly get that kind of reaction from Wesker. Hopefully it didn't have to do with Redfield. Ugh.

Wesker groaned and opened his eyes again, looking hazily around at the darkness.

“I hate it when y-you call me that.”

Jake sat up, watching him sidelong. 

"You're still talkin' nonsense."

Wesker suddenly looked straight at him, blinking hard to clear some of the blood out of his vision. He sat clumsily up and reached out to put a hand on Jake's arm.

“No Miles! You know what they'll do if they find you!” He tightened his grip, lowering his chin. “They'll kill you.”

The redhead turned toward him, picking the hand off of his shoulder with a scowl. 

"I'm not goin' anywhere. Jeez."

The blond's expression softened again. He squeezed Jake's hand.

“Please.” He laid back on his face again, bringing his other hand clumsily to his face and sighing. 

Well, at least he wasn't writhing around in pain anymore. Jake glanced down at him again, wondering who this Miles was. Apparently somebody important to his father who...hid with him at some point? 

For all he knew, whatever Wesker was seeing was completely imaginary. Jake sighed, glancing off the way Piers and Sherry had gone. It really made him uneasy to have them out of his sight out here. Technically Piers wasn't that safe to have near Sherry, either...

Sitting up, he pulled Wesker's hand away from his face. 

"Hey. Can you even hear me?"

The blond mumbled and coughed, fingers twitching. 

“I think t-they took him away too. Let's go find him. Okay?” He was still talking nonsense.

Wesker suddenly stood up, staggering to stay on his feet. He still held on to Jake's hand though. Stepping back and teetering, he pulled on his son's hand in an attempt to lead him somewhere.

The fact that he was even standing was pretty surprising. Jake pulled the blond's arm over his shoulders to support his weight, steering them more toward where Piers and Sherry had gone.

"Think maybe he's over here."

Whoever “he” was.

Jake had to half drag him along, but soon enough a small fire came into view. It was carefully placed under the edge of the massive fallen tree where Piers and Sherry were huddled.

“Jeez. We were starting to worry,” the petite woman said unhappily. “Is he still being creepy?”

"For the moment my name is Miles," Jake replied drolly. Glancing at his father's expression, he sighed and led him toward one end of the fallen tree. Maybe they could lean against it. 

There was a threatening grumble of thunder somewhere far in the distance. The little fire flickered in a slight breeze as well. In their wet clothes, it was pretty cold.

“He's bleeding again?” Piers asked sadly. He got up and came over to check on Wesker, wiping the blond's hair back from his face. “He's not looking too good.”

Wesker blinked at his touch.

“Shh,” he said, pressing a hand on Jake's chest. “They're coming.”

Jake glanced from him to Piers and placed a finger to his lips. 

"Shh. I'm keepin' an eye on him." 

Nodding a little, Piers returned to Sherry to huddle. It started sprinkling moments later – causing the fire to sizzle. Piers fanned it gently, adding small sticks around the edge to dry.

Wesker, meanwhile, was listening intently and looking around. He seem to be more awake than before but still not thinking straight. Turning back to Jake, he frowned.

“Where is he? I thought he'd be here. Derek?” He looked around them. “Derek?”

"He's not here," Jake told him quietly, glancing around them as well. "We've gotta stay quiet, though, remember?"

“Of course he's not,” Wesker said, looking back at Jake with wide blue eyes. “They've thrown him away,” he said hollowly, leaning his head down on Jake's shoulder. “I heard h-him crying last night.”

“Okay!” Sherry turned and hugged Piers tightly, squeezing her eyes shut. “He's still being creepy!”

"It's just like Piers was earlier," Jake told her, frowning. "Started talking about stuff that wasn't there. Called me his dad a few times. I'm not sure if it was memories or just the fever." He looked at Piers dubiously. "You remember any of that?"

“Uh...not really. I remember talking to my dad,” the brunette said, frowning. “It was really surreal.” He watched Wesker for a moment and sighed. “You guys should at least get out of the rain.”

"It is pretty damn cold out here," Jake admitted, glancing over at them. Getting to his feet, he took both of Wesker's arms and pulled him up as well. "C'mon, we should move over there."

Wesker followed him numbly, wobbling on his feet.

“Where are we going? Are we going t-to hide?”

“Yeah, we're gonna hide over there where they can't see us,” Jake said, leading him along slowly so that he didn't topple over. Something about the way the blond was talking and his mannerisms seemed very...childish. It was pretty bizarre. He wondered if his father had ever met anybody named Miles or Derek.

Wesker followed him, still struggling to stay upright. With all the blood running down his face, Jake hadn't noticed until then that the glow in Wesker's cheeks had returned. He was shivering as they moved, looking around them like he was lost.

“It's hopeless,” he said suddenly, bracing a hand against the tree as they arrived. He dropped his head forward, leaning heavily on the tree and speaking glumly. “They'll know. They always d-do, Miles. We can't keep hiding – they'll just h-hurt us again.” He sat up abruptly and looked straight at Jake like he was supposed to respond.

Could Wesker hear him or was he still simply playing out some scene in his mind?

Painfully aware of the fact that Piers and Sherry could hear whatever they said, Jake placed a hand on his father's shoulder. 

"Trust me, they're not gonna find us here. It's safe." He took hold of one of the blond's hands, using that and his shoulder to steer him over to sit down closer to the fire. "C'mon."

His father went willingly, wiping weakly at his face. He stopped short and stared at his blood covered hand. Jake felt his grip tighten as Wesker started shaking and trying to wipe the blood on the hip of his pants.

“No. No, no.” He wiped at his face again, breathing quickly. The blond yanked his hand free and took a step away from the light, both hands rubbing his face.

Frowning, Jake stepped after him. 

"Hey, take it easy," he said, hovering a gloved hand near his father's shoulder. Grabbing him didn't seem like a good idea when he was this unpredictable. "You CAN hear me, right?"

“Miles!” Wesker turned and grabbed Jake's shirt front – blue eyes wide in panic. “Help me.” He doubled forward, dropping to his knees and gasping for air. 

Piers got up quickly and stepped around the fire to be closer.

“Hey.” He knelt a couple of feet from the blond, leaning to look at him. “Come on. You've got this. Just breath.”

Uncertainly, Jake glanced between them. Did Piers have any clue who Miles was? 

Deciding that it probably didn't matter at the moment, the redhead sighed and sat down beside Wesker, patting his back. If this was anything like how Piers had been before, sooner or later it would wear off on its own.

“Chris?” Wesker asked in a whisper, glancing up at Piers.

The little brunette blinked slowly and cleared his throat.

“I-I'm not Chris. It's Piers, remember?”

The blond took a slow pained breath, sitting back up with a lot of effort and turning back to Jake. His expression softened as he looked at his son, eyes blurring with tears.

“You're dead. Aren't you?” He said at last, reaching to place a hand on Jake's arm. “They threw y-you away too,” the blond said numbly, swallowing. 

Tilting his head, Jake placed his hand on Wesker's shoulder, too, leaving them almost arm in arm. 

"I'm right here," he said, looking his father in the eye. "I'm not dead, I'm here with you. I'm not goin' anywhere, okay?"

Wesker's eyes fell closed and he slumped forward against his son's shoulder, giving him a loose one armed hug.

“I'm sorry I-I didn't find you. You're so cold now.” He sat up and ran a hand over Jake's hair and smiled very sadly. “I wish I was dead too.” He took a moment to wipe at the dirt on Jake's face, trying not to cry again. “I'll g-get you a blanket, o-okay? You just rest now. T-they can't hurt y-you anymore.”

Then he stood up again.

Jake stood quickly, too, struck again by how child-like Wesker's mannerisms were. He could easily be replaced by somebody five or six and act exactly the same.

"No, no, no...don't go anywhere. Stay with me," he insisted, grabbing one of his father's arms. "I don't wanna be alone."

Wesker stopped and looked at him, nodding after a long pause.

“Okay.” He sat back down clumsily, pulling on Jake's hand. “I'll stay with you. Just don't call me Al again.” The tall blond leaned back against the log and relaxed.

Piers shrugged a shoulder and returned to his spot by the fire.

“It seems to come and go with him,” he mumbled, hugging Sherry.

"No calling you Al," Jake agreed, sitting down beside him again. He didn't try to retrieve his hand. It was a little weird to sit there holding hands, but hey, at least Wesker wasn't trying to hug him.

He looked over at Piers and Sherry with a small sigh. The sky rumbled again, and the rain pattered down harder on the trees all around them. The trunk of the fallen tree actually shielded the group from most of it.

This was going to be a long night.


	38. Home Trouble

Feeding the kids and getting them to bed hadn't been that difficult. Wesker had put up amazingly little fuss after Chris had brought the phone to him — and seemed too exhausted to protest when it mysteriously disappeared later that evening. 

Chris had lost track of the time he'd laid there beside his sleeping husband in the dark, an arm around his waist, and waited for it all to disappear again. Reality was so bleak. He would've been okay with staying "awake" here in the dream all night.

A sudden boom of thunder sounded — and he was outside. The warm bed had become rough tree bark, the blankets a sheet of drenching rain, and Wesker...wasn't gone? 

He blinked down at the blond in his arms, disoriented. It wasn't Wesker — it was Leon. The two of them were sitting in the crook of some tree branches at least thirty feet off the ground — or rather, Chris was on the branches, because Leon was pretty much sitting on top of him instead. 

The sky growled its disapproval again, dumping more rain on their heads. Even through all of the water, Chris could see a pretty awful-looking injury on one side of Leon's forehead. Did he carry the blond up here? Vague memories were starting to form about it.

The blond groaned, grimacing. 

“Ugh.” Leon shifted and gingerly touched the split on his lip, checking his fingertips for blood. Then he glanced up at Chris, eyes widening. He quickly looked over how they were sitting and sat back away from the big brunette. He gritted his teeth and slapped a hand to his head. “What...what the hell happened?” The blond looked at his red covered hand and cringed. “Wow, that's a lot of blood.”

Uneasily, Chris reached over and took hold of one of his arms. No way was he letting his friend topple out of the tree. 

"Still piecing it together, myself," he admitted, glancing down at Leon's hand as well. "You're in pretty rough shape. I-I guess I dragged us up a tree before passing out," he concluded tiredly.

“Then the first objective should be to get back out of the tree,” Leon said nervously, looking around Chris toward the ground. “I don't see anything moving down there...so that's something. Wait.”

Chris could hear the squelching sound of several pairs of feet coming closer. Two maybe?

“Leon!” He heard his sister yell from below them. “Thank god! Are you okay – where's Chris?”

Leon looked down at the muscular man and pointed.

“Um. Right here.”

Chris peeked around his side to get a glimpse of Claire. 

"Who's with you?" He felt almost guilty for how much he hoped it was Wesker. There were others missing, too. The blond came to mind first, though.

“Me,” a male voice replied. It was Rebecca's friend, Billy. “But I gotta go.”

“What?” Claire asked. “We can't split up now.”

“I have to find Rebecca,” the man grumbled as he started off again.

“Billy! Come back here!” Claire yelled after him.

Leon sat watching them below with tired eyes. He patted Chris's shoulder and cleared his throat.

“How are we doing this?”

Chris glanced around them, getting a feel for how he might have climbed up the tree in the first place. Then he remembered the injury on Leon's head and looked up at him with a small frown. 

"Depends. How dizzy are you?"

“Like I got hit by a car.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe a truck.” 

He shifted on Chris's lap, gripping a branch and looking dizzily down over the edge.

“I think I can do this.”

The brunette put a hand on his chest, worried he'd lose his balance and fall head-first out of the tree. 

"No. That's a concussion if I ever saw one," he said, frowning. "I carried you up here, I can carry you back down."

At least, he was pretty sure he'd carried Leon up. His memories of that were pretty fuzzy, but it was hard to imagine that the blond had been conscious after that hit on the head.

“No, no – I got this,” Leon insisted, slinging both his legs over the edge of the branch where they were perched. He slipped suddenly – but landed both his feet on a lower branch. Wobbling, he smiled. “Phew. One down.”

“Leon, be careful,” Claire grumbled from somewhere below them. “You don't need to break another rib!”

“Or my neck.” The blond sighed, hugging the tree tightly to keep upright. “You might wanna move in case I slip.”

Taking a deep breath, Chris started down after him. There wasn't enough room for two on any of the branches, so he found himself bracing one foot on the edge of Leon's current perch and hanging from their previous seat by his arms. 

"You might not be thinking clearly, either, you know," he told the blond dubiously. "We've been up there who knows how long, and you're still bleeding."

“Am I slurring or something?” Leon asked genuinely, crawling his way down to another branch. Chris finally spotted Claire, hovering below them and looking like she was ready to catch Leon if he fell. “Hey,” The blond called down to her. “Have you seen Sherry?”

“No.” Claire said with a grim frown. “But I saw her and Piers get out of the horde alright.”

“Ah. That's...good? Is he still—” Leon was cut off as he slipped again, smacking his cheek into the tree's trunk. “Ow,” he mumbled, adjusting his grip.

Claire cringed watching him. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Doing great.”

Cautiously, Chris climbed down to each branch Leon was on last. At least the tree seemed sturdy enough. 

"Take it slow — we're in no hurry," he told his friend worriedly. 

With a little help from Claire, Leon finally made it to the ground and leaned on the tree for support.

“Okay. Which way?”

Claire just stared at him dubiously and crossed her arms.

Chris climbed down the rest of the way without incident — until the last branch. The ground underneath the tree was soft and muddy; he stumbled and wound up leaning against the tree trunk.

"Y-you didn't see anybody else, just Billy?" He asked his sister, staying there for the moment.

“Just Billy,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Come on guys. We need to find the others. Sherry's out there with who knows what.” She ducked over and pulled Leon's arm over her shoulder, drawing her pistol with her free hand.

“Thanks,” Leon said through gritted teeth.

"Piers won't leave her," Chris said, pushing away from the tree and stepping gingerly out of the mud after them. "Leon, we should at least look you over before moving. You got thrown pretty far when the Jeep took that RPG." 

Did Leon even remember that part? Chris did. The fight on the road had been a true disaster. The RV got stuck, the zombie repellent wore off, the creeps after Rebecca showed up with heavy weaponry and a vendetta...

And he had no idea where Wesker had ended up. Hopefully not still in the damned RV, because it had gone up in flames.

“I...did?” Leon said, rubbing his head. “I don't remember that.”

Claire patted his back.

“You did.”

Chris stopped beside them. 

"Just sit down for a minute, let Claire take a look," he said, looking around them. No sign of any zombies. Maybe the horde on the road had had enough to eat for awhile with all of the druggies.

Leon did as he was told and Claire started examining him, frowning and poking at him.

“Good grief! Did you jump into the horde or what?”

“I think they smelled fear.” The blond man sighed, keeping an eye on Chris. “We should follow the highway,” he added. “That's probably what Sherry will do.”

The big brunette was looking a bit glum and distant. He'd thought of Wesker in the dream — his husband. Even with all of their bickering, it had felt so nice to just lay there next to him. Going back to sleep sounded ideal, when faced with this instead of that.

"Did you see where Jake ended up?" He asked finally, sighing and wiping his hair back to get the rain out of his eyes. The fact that the redhead wasn't with Piers and Sherry was worrisome.

Both Claire and Leon shook their heads.

“No,” his sister replied, dabbing at Leon's head gently. “But I can't imagine he's very far away from Sherry.” She stood up straight and sighed. “I need a first aid kit – Leon's a mess.”

The ex-agent frowned.

“Thanks.”

Shading his eyes, Chris squinted up at the lightening sky through the rain. He saw a dark smudge out above the trees, and there was a familiar bitter scent in the air. 

Stepping back over to the others, he frowned. 

"Can you walk, Leon? I think the road's not far away."

The beat up blond gave him a thumbs up and sighed, climbing gingerly to his feet.

Claire ducked under his arm to help him stand, bracing a hand on his chest. It was then that Chris noticed the large cut along his sister's hairline. She didn't seem dizzy or anything, so it was probably nothing to worry about. 

“I hope Sherry's alright,” she mumbled, giving Leon a pat.

Stepping closer, Chris held up a hand. 

"Take it slow, you've got broken ribs." He sighed, glancing at Claire. "The road's our best chance out here for finding any first aid supplies, but it might not be clear. I should scout ahead."

“Alone? Hell no,” Leon said. “We should stick together. We've lost enough people already.”

“Agreed,” Claire added, shaking her head at Chris. “You're not exactly 100% either, Chris.”

The rain started coming down harder, pelting them in the heads as they stepped out from under the trees onto the cracked highway. The remains of the RV were visible from there. It was in pieces strewn across a long strip of highway, a tire or two smoldering nearby.

Catching sight of the RV, Chris forgot to reply to either of them — hurrying over to see if there was anything left inside the main body section. There were charred bones and bits of zombies littering the area, blackened guns, broken shards of glass... It looked like a bombing area.

The RV itself was twisted, the nose crumpled in. Memories of an RPG hitting the passenger door flashed through Chris's mind as he stepped up close enough to peer inside. 

The interior was worse than the outside. It had been gutted by fire. If anyone had stayed, they would have burned alive just minutes after everyone bailed.

Except maybe Wesker. He would survive...right?

The doorframe was still warm to the touch when Chris gripped it to lean inside — it must have been burning very hot before to still be cooling. The interior seats and walls were entirely gone, leaving only scattered springs and other metal bits such as the table legs.

No bones in sight.

“Chris!” Claire hissed suddenly. She and Leon were knelt down behind him and the blond man was drawing his pistol.

Startled back to the present, the brunette ducked down with them, glancing around quickly. 

"What is it?" He asked as quietly as he could. The rain was pounding down now, thunking loudly on what was left of the RV's metal roof; it was hard to be heard over it.

“Something's moving,” Leon replied, changing from leaning on Claire to a nearby chunk of car. Chris's sister sat up and pointed off to the side of the road.

Something was certainly moving out there by the trees. It was hard to tell in the morning light, but it looked human. Ish.

Shading his eyes, Chris focused on the thing, too. It was impossible to tell if it had caught sight of them or not — the shifting around could just be shambling.

"I thought it seemed too clear. We should move."

“Agreed,” Leon panted, clutching his side in an attempt to crawl to his feet. Meanwhile, Claire was scoping out the thing at the forest line. She glanced at her brother.

“We really shouldn't shoot anything.” She tucked her gun away and moved back to Leon's side. “Who knows what's creeping around here.”

Leon coughed, bending to rest his head on the ground.

“Ugh. I, uh...” He cringed. 

Claire hugged an arm over his shoulders, frowning softly.

“Come on. You're gonna be okay,” she said – but it sounded like she was reassuring herself more than Leon.

Chris glanced at the forest, then moved closer to Leon and Claire. 

"He's got a concussion — moving isn't doing him any favors." He reached and placed a hand on Leon's shoulder carefully. "We can't run if something spots us, we can't shoot anything, and this rain isn't about to let up. I say we find shelter, out of sight."

Claire rubbed Leon's back gently and sighed.

“Alright. You're going to have to help him.” She nodded to her friend and stood up to scan the area. 

Leon sat back on his knees and looked at Chris in defeat.

“Sorry for being dead weight,” he mumbled.

The brunette frowned, keeping the hand on his shoulder in case he fell over. 

"You almost died, Leon. Give yourself a break. Here." He stood, reaching to pull the blond to his feet. "We're getting somewhere safe if I have to carry you there."

Leon looped an arm over Chris's shoulder, smiling at him warmly.

“Careful. You'll make Wesker jealous.” At that moment, Chris's mind decided to bring back memories of the dreamscape – and of Al asking if Chris was cheating on him with the handsome agent.

“Come on guys. I think I see a van,” Claire called quietly.

The sky let loose above them. The rain was so loud on the busted up cars and pavement that it made it hard to hear their own footsteps. Which was probably a good thing.

Chris nodded to her, stepping slowly along with Leon leaning on him. 

"We're coming, just gotta move slow." It was good for Claire to scout ahead anyway, make sure there weren't any zombies in the van first.

To his surprise, Claire disappeared ahead of them. 

Leon leaned heavily on Chris and sighed.

“I'm sure he's alright,” he said quietly, looking up at Chris again. “He lived through a volcano – Wesker's not going to die from some high idiots.”

"He wasn't exactly sick when the volcano thing happened," Chris replied quietly. 'Happened' — like he had nothing to do with it. He'd worry about that later. 

To Leon, he added sadly, "I'm just not sure who else would help him besides me. You didn't see — he was sick, very sick. Bleeding from his eyes and mouth." He paused and glanced at the woods again for any movement before moving them past the edge toward the van. Claire must have been inside by now.

It was quiet, so hopefully she hadn't run into any trouble.

Sure enough, his sister had scouted inside of the van too. She was sitting on the floor in the back.

Leon peeked inside.

“Cozy.”

Chris stepped up close to the edge of the door and paused there, slipping both arms around Leon. At least he was easy to lift up and place on the edge of the van floor. 

"Yeah, not bad at all," he said over the blond's shoulder, nodding at Claire. "Here, help him get settled."

Claire took both of Leon's hands and pulled him inside.

“There you go,” she said nicely, propping Leon against one of the walls. The van wasn't that big. They wouldn't have room to move around much, but at least they're be out of the rain.

Leon deflated, running a tired hand through his hair.

Chris lingered by the door, though.

"Is there anything in there to use for first aid? I could try and search the cars near us."

From what he could tell, Leon mostly had the head injury and the broken ribs.

“Just get in here,” Claire said, waving him in. “There's a car out front – I'll check it really quick.” Without waiting on Chris's reply, the auburn haired woman disappeared out the front of the van.

“Hey!” Leon called after her, scowling. “Be careful!”

Chris sighed and climbed into the van, pulling the back door closed. Claire hadn't really given him any chance to argue — clearly she still counted him as one of the injured, the same way everybody had since they'd started this little road trip. 

So he'd hit his head a few times...fractured a rib or two...gotten knifed in the back...and gotten into a fistfight with a Licker recently. Okay, so he wasn't exactly in perfect shape. He'd had a lot worse, though.

Settling down beside Leon, the brunette turned and examined the injury on his head. 

"...You said you didn't remember the RPG hitting the Jeep," he prompted, frowning. "What do you remember seeing last?"

“Um...” Leon leaned his head back against the van's wall, looking up at Chris. “The RV stalled, right? Then fire and a lot of yelling.” He rubbed his head gingerly.

"More or less," Chris said, frowning. The head injury was still bleeding sluggishly. The rain had washed the caked-on blood off, and it looked pretty nasty underneath. 

"The RV didn't stall. Got hung up on some dead cars," he added after a moment, slumping back against the wall. "The damned repellent wore off right afterward, and then Rebecca's pals decided to show up. You don't remember the gunfight?"

Leon cringed and shook his head.

“All I remember is waking up on top of you.” He shifted painfully and placed a hand on Chris's shoulder. “Thanks for saving my ass. I appreciate it.”

Chris glanced at him a bit sheepishly. 

"Well, you're my friend. Sorry I, uh. Couldn't find a tree with more room." He sighed, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. "...When the RPG hit the Jeep, the door blew off. Hit you and sent you straight down the hill into the creek." Face-down in the creek, to be precise. He was kind of glad that Leon had been unconscious for that part. 

Chris had wanted to get Wesker out of the RV, but if he’d left Leon like that he would have drowned…so he’d gone down the hill after his friend. Wesker had been with Jake, Piers and Sherry, so he’d had a chance at help and Leon didn’t. There wasn’t any body in the remains of the RV. He was probably out there somewhere…

“Wow,” Leon mumbled, smiling over at him. “I guess I got off easy, then.” He looked Chris over more critically now that it was getting light outside. “How're you holding up?”

"I'm fine." Chris shrugged — then paused to actually assess how he felt and frowned. "Okay, maybe not. I'm tired and my head hurts," he admitted wearily. "...This's a disaster. We lost most of the group."

“Every one of them is a seasoned survivor – just like us,” Leon said confidently. “They'll be fine.” 

Claire crawled back inside from the front, a few small objects shoved under her arm. 

“Okay. So, I found an old T-shirt and a manicure kit.” She plunked down across from them and offered up her new finds. “I'm sure we can make it work.”

Chris immediately sat up again. 

"We'll have to. C'mon, sit with us and warm up." They were all soaked, but his sister had been out in the icy rain the longest. The cut on her head was still worrying Chris, even though she didn't seem to be acting off.

His sister smiled brightly and crawled over to sit between them – mindful of Leon's injuries.

“So, what's the plan?”

She opened the nail kit and starting clipping the edge of the tee to split it into strips. 

Chris put an arm around her shoulders, sighing. 

"We follow the road. That was the plan with the RV, so it's where the others might go, too."

“Hope so. I'm hoping that mountain lab is more like a summer retreat. Maybe with a spa,” Leon said tiredly, leaning on Claire's shoulder – well, Chris's arm actually – and closing his eyes. Claire patted his cheek gently. 

“Aw. Poor baby.”

Chris peered around his sister at Leon. Now that they were holding still and not being rained on, exhaustion was setting right back in. He felt warm and heavy. Sleeping sounded nice, but probably wasn't a good idea for Leon at the moment.

"Let's stay put at least until the weather lets up," he sighed, leaning back against the van wall again. 

“Agreed,” the others said in unison. Claire shifted to get comfortable and sighed.

“As soon as the rain lets up, we should keep going,” she murmured, leaning her head against Leon's. They both looked very tired.

“Yeah,” Leon said quietly – his eyes already drifting closed.

"Somewhere with actual beds," Chris replied, scooting closer to Claire. He patted Leon's shoulder lightly. "And a first aid kit. Promise."

Claire giggled, patting Leon's cheek. 

“Okay, okay. No sleeping yet.” She turned and started to clean up Leon's head as carefully as she could.

Leon, however, was already drifting off – his head laid back against the wall. He nodded ever so slightly when Claire spoke to him.

Chris wasn't paying much better attention than the blond. He felt like he should say something, but his mind was drifting through worries about Leon, Wesker, Sherry, Piers... 

The knocking on the front door.

It suddenly dawned on him that he was sitting on a couch, a cup of hot coffee sitting in front of him. The smell was divine. It was roasted and heavy.

“Chris!” He heard someone call. It was Wesker – he sounded half dead. Or just very sick. “Could you PLEASE get the door already?”

Piers zipped past Chris before he could move, stretching to unlock the door with his tiny hands.

Stunned by the sudden change of setting, Chris hopped right out of his seat and hurried to catch up to the kid. It was actually disorienting to suddenly not have aches and pains everywhere.

Had the dream version of him really been sitting here ignoring the door while Wesker was stuck sick in bed, though? He had to find that note and see if there was a reply, because it was bound to be enlightening...

Giving up on reaching the lock, Piers pouted and looked up at his dad. There was another knock on the door and the little boy ran to the window to check who it is.

“It's Sherry!” He yelled in excitement.

Chris frowned, stepping up to the door and unlocking it. Last time Sherry showed up on the doorstep, Birkin was with her. Hoping there was some possibility that it might be Claire instead, he pulled the door open and looked out.

"Hello?"

Sure enough, it was Birkin. He was holding Sherry in his arms. Both of them looked a little...scuffed up.

“Piers!” The tiny blond girl was beaming at Piers, but she had a little cut on her chin and a bruise on her cheek.

Her father looked much worse for wear. He had a black eye, a busted lip and Chris was sure that he saw blood in his hair.

Birkin cleared his throat and knelt stiffly to let the little girl down.

“Hello again.” He looked up at Chris and swallowed. “Can Sherry come in for a few minutes?”

Looking them both over quickly, Chris frowned further and waved for Sherry to come in. 

"Go on and play." He waited for the kids to head back into the living room before turning back to the blond. 

Birkin watched them go, tucking his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat. After a moment of making sure that the kids were playing, he glanced at Chris over his eye bags and sighed.

“Can she stay and play for awhile?”

Chris looked over the shorter man's shoulder, out onto the lawn. Spotting the scientist's car there, perfectly unharmed, he frowned and crossed his arms. Not a car accident, then.

"What the hell happened to you two?"

“It just...didn't seem fair to keep her away from Piers,” the blond mumbled, scratching his head. He cringed and wiped his bloody hand his sleeve. “Look, before you beat the piss out of me, I just wanted to check on Al. Is he alright? He said you were making him eat your soup.” He grimaced.

Chris blinked. He certainly hoped that last part wasn't true. Glancing behind him, he reached and placed a hand on the blond's thin shoulder. 

"Listen, I could overlook it if it was just you, but Sherry has marks on her." He lowered his voice further, glancing back into the living room to be sure the kids weren't nearby. "Did Umbrella actually come after you and your family...?"

“No – look, I don't want any trouble.” Birkin took a step back, twisting away from Chris's touch. “She just needs a place to stay for a few hours. I'll come and get her as s-soon as I can.”

He started off across the lawn, keeping one eye on the large brunette. 

Chris followed him, though, closing the front door behind him and standing there on the porch. It was only then that he realized he was wearing pajamas pants and a tank top, walking around barefoot. The porch felt cool under his feet.

"So you don't need to go talk to Al?"

Birkin shook his head.

“H-he doesn't need to see me like this.” The skinny blond turned and crawled into his car.

Chris crossed his arms again, staring him down.

"He's in bed sick. Come in, have a cup of coffee." He held out a hand. "Truce?"

Birkin stared at his hand like it was a snake and climbed very slowly out of his car again. He squinted at Chris for a moment suspiciously. 

“R-really?”

The big brunette sighed, moving his hand to rub the back of his neck. 

"Look, I've been pretty terrible to you. Never really tried just talking to you before. And if you're just gonna sit out here in your car, you may as well sit somewhere comfortable and have some coffee."

“Okay,” Birkin mumbled, starting back toward the house. He glanced sidelong at Chris again. “This is a b-bit surreal. I don't think we've ever had a civil conversation.”

Chris smiled at him, stepping back over to hold the door open. 

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. We're both dads, I think we could be better examples for our kids than we have been. C'mon."

The thin blond stepped back inside, shrinking.

Piers and Sherry were busy playing with the pile of toy food in the living room, each one focused on 'cooking' their orders up.

Watching them for a moment, Birkin turned back to Chris.

“Is Al sleeping?”

"Just resting in bed," Chris admitted, glancing around. Where was Jake, anyway? He closed the door and stepped up beside Birkin, glancing at him sidelong. He'd never even met the real William Birkin face to face. 

"You want to talk to him?" He added, stepping toward the bedroom already. 

“No, n-no, no. That's fine – let him rest,” the scientist said quickly, perching on the couch edge. He looked at the abandoned cup of coffee and ran a hand through his hair.

Taking the hint, Chris shrugged and stepped into the kitchen. Fortunately, the coffee maker still had several cups left in it. It must have been a fresh pot, too — it was hot. 

The roasty smell in the air was a sad reminder of just how unreal this was. Chris was beginning to think he'd never taste real coffee again in the waking world. 

That just reminded him of the current situation, and of Wesker. He returned to the living room looking sadder and more distant than planned, offering Bill the cup of coffee. 

"Here...there's no cream or sugar, we just drink it black."

“We always drink it black at the lab too,” the blond man said, taking a careful sip from the cup. He propped it on his knee and looked around the house nervously. 

Piers got up and came over to him, offering him a piece of plastic toast.

“Order up!”

Birkin stared at it for a second and then took it gingerly.

“Thank you.”

Sherry glanced up at her dad, then at Chris.

“Where's uncle Albert?”

Chris mustered a smile for the little girl, stepping over to pick up his own abandoned coffee mug. 

"He's sleeping right now, Sherry. He's got a cold, and he needs to rest." 

The kids returned to playing and Birkin finally scooted back to actually sit on the couch. He sipped on his coffee and looked at Chris curiously.

“I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Al's just...stressed l-lately.”

Wondering if he was referring to something said to the other Chris, the brunette sighed and stepped over to take a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

“Everybody's working too much on too little sleep.” He took a sip of his coffee, watching the kids play. “You guys can't keep working at this pace. When is this thing gonna be done, anyway?” Wesker had implied that it was soon.

Birkin sighed too, running a hand through his hair.

“I don't k-know. We're stuck at the moment. Albert's been insisting on looking at alternative ways of growing the pro— ah, never mind.” He glanced up at Chris through tired eyes. “I forgot who I was talking to.” He sipped his own coffee and continued.

“He's not satisfied with how we're creating it, so he keeps wasting time with other methods. If he'd just focus, we could probably get it done in a month or so.” The blond man rubbed his eyes wearily. “But I'm having the same troubles lately.” He lowered his hand to look at Sherry, frowning. “It's hard to focus on work w-when home is so stressful.”

He looked quickly at Chris again and shook his head quickly. “Not that I-I think you're stressing him out!”

Chris frowned at him. 

"'Home trouble', huh. I hope you're not implying what I think you are," he said quietly, glancing to make sure the kids weren't paying that close of attention. They appeared to be "frying" a plastic fish in a toy skillet very intently.

Birkin shook his head.

“N-no, no. Nothing, er, like cheating. I just mean that he's...You know, never mind.” He rubbed his head and sunk back into the couch more. “It's not important.” He sipped his coffee and watched the kids playing. 

After a moment, he shifted to face Chris more, clearing his throat. “Albert's worried about you. He always does when y-you drink so much.”

Birkin, Chris reminded himself, had been the best friend Wesker had had in real life. The dream one appeared to be pretty close to him as well. Looking into his coffee cup, he sighed.

"Great. I bet you've heard all about it." He paused, glancing at the skinny man sidelong. "Did he mention Leon?"

“Leon? I think he mentioned a Logan. He must have meant Leon though – he didn't sound too sure,” the blond explained. “He said he was attractive and that you two hit it off.” Birkin frowned. “He didn't seem too worried about him though.” He looked at Chris sideways. “...Should he b-be?”

"Guess he really does tell you everything," Chris replied a bit drolly. He shifted in his seat, turning to face the blond and taking a sip of his coffee. "Leon's just a friend. He's not interested in men — and the only one I'm interested in is the one I'm married to. You can tell Al I said so."

Birkin nodded slowly, drinking from his cup. Then he leaned forward and sat it on the coffee table. 

“Do you have a first aid kit in the bathroom?” He looked at Chris. “I swear I won't wander off – I just don't want to get blood on your sofa and, uh...” He nodded to Sherry. 

Sitting his coffee aside as well, the big brunette got to his feet quickly. 

"I'll get it." 

He glanced at Sherry as he stepped past, heading for the bathroom. The medicine cabinet was hopefully actually the place where they stored the first aid kit.

The bathroom cabinet had a fat first aid kit shoved in it, as well as a variety of disinfectants, pain killers and brightly colored bandaids – including dinosaurs and camo print.

There was even a little reusable heat pack shaped like an octopus, as well as a line up of rubber ducks along the edge of the bathtub.

It was so childish and...well, ordinary, that Chris had to smile. This Wesker studied diseases — it figured that he would be a little overprotective about his kids catching any. Picking up the first aid kit, he decided to grab the disinfectant and bandaids as well. The fun bandaids might cheer little Sherry up a bit. 

He headed back into the living room, placing the first aid supplies on the coffee table for Birkin.

"Here you go." He remained on his feet, picking up his coffee cup. Checking on Al seemed like a good idea; the blond had been awake when Bill was knocking on the door.

He probably wondered what was going on out here.

“Thanks,” Bill said, waving to his daughter. “Sherry, come here for a second.” The little girl carefully sat aside her frying pan and joined her dad by the couch.

Birkin opened the first aid kit, handing the box of fun bandaids off to Sherry.

“Just pick one that you like.”

Chris nodded at them and stepped toward the door to the hallway. 

Turning back, he called, "Hey, Piers, why don't we go check on Daddy?"

“Me?” The little boy asked, abandoning his toys and hurrying to his dad's side. He stared straight up at Chris with big gray eyes. “Isn't he sleeping?”

Chris leaned and scooped the little boy up with one arm, the cup of coffee still held in the other hand. He smiled at Piers. 

"I think so, but I have to make sure he doesn't have a fever again. Hey, have you seen Jake?" He started down the hallway, glancing back at Birkin once as he went. Hopefully the man actually was just going to patch up him and Sherry and not go rifling around for Al's research notes. Again.

The scientist was gently dabbing at his daughter's cheek and whispering to her. She was trying to decide on a bandaid.

“No.” Piers shook his head sadly, resting a small hand on Chris's shoulder. “He said I wasn't allowed into his room anymore because I have girl germs.” 

"I bet he'll be happy Sherry's here, even if he doesn't say so," Chris said, stepping down the hallway to the master bedroom.


	39. Compromised

Chris placed Piers on his feet on the floor only because he didn't have any free hands to open the door.

Wesker was laying in bed with the blankets bundled up around him, just as he’d been in the last dream. Unlike the last dream, the kid version of Jake was sitting on the foot of the bed, kicking his feet over the side and talking to his father quietly.

Great, Chris thought. If Wesker actually did just have the flu, the kid was probably going to catch it.

"Al?" He asked, stepping inside and glancing at Jake. The little redhead looked back at him with a small frown, saying nothing.

“Chris?” Wesker rolled to sit up, groaning. Bleary blue eyes looked at him as the blond coughed hard.

Piers smiled and came over to his brother.

Chris stepped up by the bed, placing the cup of coffee on the bedstand. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, turning to pat the blond's back.

"Hey, take it easy. No need to get up," he said worriedly. "I just thought you might want to know who was at the door."

Wesker turned and hugged him, cuddling up against the big brunette's chest.

“Is it that blond mall cop again?” He muttered tiredly.

"I — no," Chris said, surprised. He wrapped both arms around his husband, rubbing his back. For a split second, he was reminded that this was just a vivid dream, and that Wesker was missing in real life. Trying not to think about it right then, he sighed.

"It was Bill, actually. Him and Sherry," he admitted. "Looking a little roughed up." He lowered his voice to a whisper, glancing over at Piers and Jake. "He called it 'trouble at home'."

With a heavy sigh, Wesker loosened his arms around Chris. 

“Wonderful. Is he bleeding or...?”

Piers crawled up on top of the bed with great effort and looked at Al. He seemed a little scared to get too close.

Chris sat back, but kept an arm looped around the blond's waist. 

"A little bit. I invited them in and gave him the first aid kit," he explained, offering Piers and Jake a smile. The kids both looked a little uneasy. In fact, Jake looked like he might have been crying. "They're in the living room."

“That seems strangely nice of you,” the blond mumbled, looking at Chris suspiciously. But Wesker then noticed Jake's expression too, and scooted out of his husband's arms toward the little boy.

“Jake? Come here,” he said gently, arms outstretched toward his son. “What's the matter?”

"Nothin'," the little redhead insisted. He crawled over the folded up blankets to hug Wesker's side, though, sniffling. "...Are you gonna go to the hospital?" 

Chris blinked, glancing to make sure Piers didn't have that idea in mind, too. Wesker wasn't that sick, but for little kids, the coughing and staying in bed for days probably seemed scary. He wondered what had happened to Jake’s mother in this world. In the real world she’d died of illness, so maybe the idea of Wesker going to the hospital seemed to little Jake like he wouldn’t be coming back again…

Piers looked back at Chris, crawling clumsily over the covers to join his brother.

“Are you dying, daddy?”

Al shook his head, hugging Jake closely. He pulled the blankets up around his son.

“You two don't have to worry about that. I'm already starting to feel better – I promise.” He kissed Jake's forehead. “Really. I'll be good as new in a few days.” He reached over carefully and patted Piers' hair.

Jake mumbled something and hid his face in the front of his father's shirt. Chris reached over and hugged Piers with his free arm, nodding. 

"Yep, he'll be okay. He just needs lots of rest and soup," he assured the kids. Hopefully soup that Chris didn't cook, himself. He had a feeling that would make somebody MORE likely to throw up than not...

“Now, why don't you two go play with Sherry? I need to talk to your dad,” Al told them, sneaking a kiss on the top of Piers' head too.

The brunette boy nodded and gave Wesker a careful hug around the neck.

“I love you, daddy,” Piers said heavily.

The blond man looked surprised and a little sad as he hugged both of the boys.

“I love you too.”

Chris couldn't help a small chuckle, wrapping them all in a big hug. 

"Aww, you guys, he'll be okay. Nobody's gonna die, and nobody's gonna have to eat any more of my soup. Okay?"

Jake sniffled and glommed onto Wesker's side again. 

"P-promise?" 

"I promise," Chris said solemnly.

“You guys can order in,” Al said reassuringly, patting Jake's back.

“Really?” Piers asked. He looked excitedly between his dads. “Can we have pizza?”

The blond man nodded and smiled.

“You can have anything you like.”

"Pizza," Jake agreed, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "With pineapple an' bacon."

"Canadian bacon?" Chris asked, amused. "Okay. We can get pizza for Sherry, too. Do you know what kind she likes?" He glanced at Piers, too. The little brunette played with Sherry a lot more than Jake did, it seemed.

“She likes pineapple too, but she said pepperoni is her favorite,” the little boy said happily. 

Patting Jake's head again, Wesker sank back into the bed a bit. He still looked like he didn't feel that great, but he was trying to put on a brave face for the kids anyway.

“We can get a small pepperoni for her and her father.”

“Bill,” Piers said, crawling his way off of the bed.

Chris turned to Jake, who was still pretty much attached to Wesker's side, and smiled.

"Jake, daddy needs to rest now. You and Piers go play with Sherry, and I'll call and order us all pizza. Okay?"

Reluctantly, the kid let go of Wesker, scooting toward the edge of the bed. He kept glancing back, though.

“I'll be alright, Jake. I promise,” Al said. He pulled his blankets back up and smiled at his son. “I'll come out for dinner.”

“Come on, Jake.” Piers offered Jake a hand down, holding his arms up to his brother. “You can work in our restaurant! We're making dinosaur pancakes,” he added proudly.

"Pancakes?" Seeming reassured about Wesker's condition for now, the redhead reached down and grabbed the offered hands, clambering off of the bed and just barely avoiding falling over. 

Sitting up and frowning, he asked Piers dubiously, "Do they have blueberries in 'em?"

Chris watched the kids head for the door, still holding hands and talking about various foods. When they had gone back out into the hall, he turned back to Wesker, placing a hand on his forehead. 

"Hey."

Al closed his eyes. He still had a fever going. His skin was hot to the touch.

“Hey.”

Chris moved his hand to run his fingers through the blond's hair gently, sighing. He couldn't make any big promises about being better here. The truth was that he wasn't here long enough to undo the problems the other him created the rest of the time. 

"I hope it's okay to invite Bill in," he said finally, a bit glumly. "I don't want work following you home, but I don't think he's here to talk about work — for once."

The blond scooted over to hug his arms around Chris tightly. He lay his head on the big brunette's shoulder.

“Last time he was here, you practically threw him out. Why the change of heart?”

A bit surprised, Chris hugged him, pulling the blanket up around his back. 

"Because he wasn't trying to get in," he admitted. "He and his little girl showed up on our doorstep all roughed up, and all he asked was to let her stay and play with Piers for a bit. It seemed like the decent thing to invite him in for a cup of coffee."

“Sherry too?” Al asked, scowling. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised.” He turned and snuggled his face against Chris's shirt and sighed. “Thank you for letting him in. He usually just sleeps at the lab.”

Chris rubbed his back, glancing at the door to the hallway. 

"Does this happen a lot?" Bill hadn't looked beaten up the other times he'd shown up. Then again, maybe he just didn't have any marks on his face. The thought of anybody hitting Sherry really bothered him.

“On and off,” Wesker said quietly. “He doesn't talk about it much, but it's hard to hide sometimes.” The blond coughed, shifting to look up at Chris. “You should probably order that pizza.”

Admiring his clear blue eyes, Chris replied absently, "Yeah..." The real Wesker had blue eyes right now, too. He was trying very hard not to imagine blood on his husband's face. 

When had it become so easy to think of them as married, anyway?

Pressing a kiss to the blond's lips, he forced a smile and sat up. "Yeah, I better go do that. You get some rest — I'll let you know when it's here."

Wesker grabbed his arm gently. 

“Chris, wait. Do you think it would be alright if Bill slept on the couch tonight?”

"Huh? Yeah, of course — I wouldn't make him sleep in his car," Chris assured him. "Or Sherry. I'll let him know."

“Thank you,” Al said, leaning up to kiss him again. 

Then Chris was looking at Leon.

The blond was leaned against his shoulder, sleeping soundly. He had a piece of old cloth wrapped around his head.

Rain was pounding a musical pattern on the old van's metal roof. It almost matched the sudden return of the throbbing in his head. That and various other aches and pains told Chris that he was definitely awake again.

Wait...hadn't Claire been sitting between him and Leon? He glanced around quickly for any sign of his sister. 

Claire wasn't in the van with them, but the front passenger door was standing open. Maybe she was outside?

It looked like she'd gone out there on purpose, at least. Still, Chris didn't like it at all. How long had she been gone — and why had she left the door standing open? More importantly, why leave without him or Leon?

As gently as he could, he lifted the blond away from his shoulder and moved him to lay down on the floor. Climbing to his feet, Chris moved up to the front of the van to look outside.

"Claire?" He called, but kept his voice low. Hopefully she was just outside. She had no reason to take off without them.

A pair of legs swung over the door edge and then Claire hung her head inside, pressing a finger to her lips.

“Shh. That one's still out there by the trees.”

She disappeared for a second before climbing down onto the hood of the van.

Frowning, Chris waved for her to come back inside. 

With a shrug, Claire crawled back inside and closed the door as quietly as she could. She seemed like she was perfectly fine. The rain had let up to a gentle mist, but it was still very cold outside.

“What's up?”

Leaning against the wall, Chris glanced back over his shoulder at Leon.

"No sign of anybody else on the road, just zombies?" He asked softly. It was amazing how he’d just been sleeping and still felt so exhausted.

“I thought I saw someone a few minutes ago – which was why I was on top of the van – but they disappeared up the highway. Human. But could be one of those assholes we fought earlier.” She frowned and dusted her knees. 

Chris sighed, rubbing his forehead. 

"Please wake me up if you see anybody again. What if they spotted you?"

“No, I was in here when I saw them and they were heading away from us. They didn't see us,” she reassured him, then smiled sweetly. “Besides…” She leaned to look at Leon. “…You guys looked so cozy.”

"Not you, too," Chris mumbled, looking down. "Look, he's in bad shape. If we don't keep him warm, I'm worried he'll go into shock. We really need to find a first aid kit."

“I looked around earlier, but there's not much for miles. We should keep moving – follow the highway toward the mountains. There's bound to be a gas station or something along the way.”

She got up and slipped around Chris into the back, checking on Leon. 

“I know you're in pretty rough shape too, but is there any chance that you can carry him?”

Chris nodded immediately, stepping after her. 

"We have to be careful, but I'm pretty sure we could avoid being seen by the zombie in the woods. Maybe keep behind the cars until we're further down the road," he suggested quietly, looking down at Leon as well. If the blond woke up, he would probably try to insist on walking, but it wasn't a good idea.

“Or we could just walk further off the road in the woods? Keep the road in sight?” She asked, opening the back door to peek outside.

"That would be better," Chris agreed, kneeling down beside Leon. "Lets us see anybody who's coming before they see us, too. Are we ready to move now?"

“Yeah.” Claire hopped out of the back, holding the bent up door open for them. “I think it's going to rain again, so we might as well get walking.”

Leon stirred at the sound of the door, rubbing his head with a clumsy hand. He looked up at Chris and frowned. 

“Hey.”

Chris reached both arms around him to lift him up. 

"Hey, we're gonna move while the rain's light," he explained quietly. "There's still at least one zombie nearby, but now seems like a good time to go."

Sitting up with a lot of effort, Leon braced an arm on Chris's shoulder.

“That's great,” he groaned. 

“Come on. We'll find you some painkillers,” Claire said with a sympathetic smile.

Leon's eyebrows perked at the sound of that.

Chris carefully picked the blond up before even climbing out of the van, deciding that it was easier than scooting him to the door. He did take his time stepping down onto the pavement, mindful of jostling Leon around too much. 

"Okay, let's stick with the road at least until we'd clear of that one zombie," he told Claire, trying not to wince too noticeably. His head kind of hurt, but he doubted it was anywhere near as bad as Leon's.

Claire walked ahead of them, pistol at the ready. The area seemed pretty clear, with the exception of that one shambling corpse – but they left him behind quickly as they moved into the woods. At least the trees provided a little protection from the rain. Leon held around Chris's neck tightly and frowned.

“And I'm not walking because...?”

"Because you're a lot more injured than either of us," Chris replied quietly, glancing around them as he went. "You've got a concussion, Leon."

“And a broken rib and a bunch of other problems – yeah. But you're not exactly in perfect shape either,” Leon protested weakly, cringing as they stepped over a fallen branch. “There's nothing wrong with my legs. Well...nothing serious.”

"I can handle carrying you," Chris told him, frowning at the cringe and stepping more carefully over the other branches. "Do I really have to remind you that walking makes you get dizzy and throw up when you have a concussion?"

The blond man leaned his chin on Chris's shoulder, looking around behind them.

“I don't have anything to throw up anyways.”

There was a loud crackling sound as Leon's GPS came to life again. The ex-agent flinched and hurried to answer it.

"...eon? Leon, do you copy?" Hunnigan's voice crackled a bit at first, but the signal seemed to clear up. "Your signal's back, at least. If you can hear me, say something."

Chris glanced down at the little device quickly, blinking. He'd forgotten all about Hunnigan. It seemed like quite awhile since he'd heard Leon talking to her last.

“Leon here.” The blond replied quickly. 

Claire circled back to them, keeping watch for anything that might have heard the loud crackling radio.

"Leon! Thank god," Hunnigan replied immediately, sounding relieved. "Why did you turn your GPS off? What's your status?"

Focusing on the terrain, Chris slowly stepped ahead, nodding for Claire to stick close by. 

“It wasn't off – it just wasn't working. I got in a couple of fights and I think it took a hit,” Leon explained. “Anyway. We've left the auto shop and are on the road again – but we've lost the RV and we're scattered. Any chance you can pick anyone up on satellite? “

There was a brief silence.

"I'm not near the computer, actually," Hunnigan admitted. "I'm using a handheld GPS like yours."

Leon frowned. 

“Why?” He asked slowly. “Is the base compromised?”

"I'm afraid so," Hunnigan replied shortly. "We can talk about that later. You said your group's split up. Who's still with you, Leon?"

Chris glanced down at them again, but didn't comment. As far as he knew, Hunnigan had been somewhere extremely secure. If even that was overrun, there had to be an awful lot of B.O.W.s behind it...or worse, corrupt people.

“Claire and Chris are here with me. We saw Billy earlier, but he took off to find Rebecca. That was a day ago. Everyone else is MIA.”

"Okay. What gear do you have to work with? Any injuries?" Hunnigan didn't seem fazed. Then again, she was used to Leon being on his own.

“We could use a first aid kit and some ammo – but we've got all our limbs.” Leon sat up a bit and cringed. “Oh and I have a concussion,” he added thoughtfully.

"Your signal's still moving," Hunnigan replied, nonplussed. "Okay, Leon. Any idea where you are? Landmarks or road names would be helpful."

The blond man laughed. 

“Not really. That's why I was hoping for a satellite.”

"The satellite still works, but I have no way of accessing it any more than you do right now. I downloaded what maps I could before I had to get out of there," Hunnigan explained, all business. "If you can get me a street name or a building address, then I can get an approximate location and tell you where to go next."

Chris paid careful attention to that particular part of the conversation. Having somebody point them toward a safe house, or even somewhere that might have first aid supplies, sounded very useful right about now.

“We're somewhere along the highway north of that auto shop. If you still have that location saved.”

Claire rubbed her neck and looked off at the highway.

“I came through here on my way to you, Chris.” She looked at her brother, keeping her voice low. “There's a crappy little hotel somewhere up here.”

"North, after the auto shop," Hunnigan repeated. "Give me a moment, here." There was a brief silence. "...Okay, I've got the right road, at least. If you keep going north, there's a hotel on the left. It's pretty small — might have a first aid kit since businesses usually require them by law." 

Leon only pressed the button while speaking, so she couldn't have heard what Claire had said. Chris nodded to his sister. 

"Did you see if it was clear?"

“From what I could tell, yes. Most of the little cabin things were busted up. The office was okay though, so we should definitely check there.”

“Thanks Hunnigan. We'll head that way,” Leon said, hugging his arm back around Chris's neck. “Take care of yourself out there, okay?”

"You, too, Leon. I'll be in touch. Hunnigan out." With that, the little handheld device fell completely silent again.

"Does she go out in the field much?" Chris asked, glancing down at Leon. "Kind of sounded like she was on her own."

The blond shook his head tiredly.

“Not really. She's always been my eyes in the sky.” He shifted a little, grimacing. “This is gonna sound w-weird, but can I ride on your back? This is really...painful.”

Chris immediately stopped, glancing around to be sure that the area was still clear. Claire was still taking point, which was reassuring. 

"Sure, if you can hold on." He carefully placed the blond on his feet on the ground. "Claire, we need to move him to my back."

His sister hurried over to them and took Leon's arm.

“Is everything okay?” Claire brushed a hand through the blond's hair with concern, checking on the makeshift bandage on his head. 

“Ow,” Leon mumbled. He kept a hand on Chris's shoulder and moved behind him out of range of Claire's prodding. “Yeah, I can hold on.”

"It's because he's awake, actually," Chris told her, turning and kneeling for Leon to climb onto his back. "He can hold on, so I can use my hands. Too bad my gun disappeared back there." Probably into the river when he fished Leon out. He sighed.

Leon climbed on and hooked his arms around Chris's neck, laying his head on the brunette's back. He sighed.

“God I hope that hotel is close.”

Claire patted his back and went back ahead of them.

“Come on guys. We can make it before noon.”  


* * *

  
Wesker had slipped into silence, his head hung forward over his chest. He had drifted off to sleep at some point while they waited for sunrise – and remained asleep for a few hours.

It was light out again, but the storm and the canopy of the trees cast long shadows around them. The rain had let up to a lighter drizzle too.

Sherry and Piers had stayed in Jake's sight, quietly talking among themselves. Piers even shared a protein bar that he had snagged from somewhere (but not before reading the back to make sure that it was alright for pregnant women.)

Jake, meanwhile, was trying to decide if it was worth risking waking his father to try and retrieve the hand the blond still held. He wanted to check on Piers and Sherry both — and to talk to them without waking Wesker up, too.

Very slowly, the redhead slipped his fingers out of his father's grasp, holding his breath. Wesker had been out for hours — he had to be sleeping deeply, right? Hopefully.

The hand he had been holding instantly snapped into a fist and the blond growled deeply. Wesker's chest heaved as he took in a difficult breath – lifting his head up and wheezing.

Both Piers and Sherry froze and watched him intently. Was he still delusional?

Jake had already been about to get up, and froze crouched there, watching him. 

"...Anybody home?"

Wesker looked his way, squinting. He started shivering and hugged his arms loosely around himself. The blond had blood running from his eyes again, and was blinking hard to try to clear his vision.

“Where am I?” He looked Jake's way again and coughed raggedly. “What have you done with him?”

With a sigh, his son sat back down. 

"Done with who?" Whoever he was talking about probably wasn't here.

“Miles?” The blond said in disbelief, sitting up onto his knees and reaching for Jake's shoulder. “Miles! You're alive!” He slid a hand up and felt Jake's cheek, frowning. “I can't see, but I know that it's you.” Suddenly, Wesker smiled. “We can make it, little brother.” Unsteadily climbing to his feet, he pulled Jake along by his collar. “Come on. We need to get to town. Do you know where it is?”

Piers got up too and frowned.

“Maybe we should get moving. If he's walking, we could steer him where we need to go. Hopefully.”

A bit creeped out when he was smiled at, Jake scowled and reached a hand over to take hold of one of Wesker's shoulders.

"Yeah, it's light out — let's go ahead and move," he told Piers, glancing between him and Sherry and wiping the smear of blood off of his cheek. "You guys alright?" 

This arrangement was really starting to bother him. Even though the others had been right across the fire from him all night, he felt like he'd been ignoring them.

“I'm fine, I just keep thinking about Claire and the others,” Sherry admitted. She came a little closer while Piers put out their fire. “Wesker seems like he's still not out of the woods yet. I wonder why it's taking so much longer than Piers?” The brunette glanced at the sound of his name, but didn't comment.

"I'm not exactly a science expert," Jake said, frowning at his father, "But I'd bet Piers is doin' better because HE got a treatment Wesker refined for him. With Wesker, we just gave him some of my blood straight, like a mini transfusion."

Like he knew what the hell he was talking about. Besides Wesker, Rebecca was the best hope of making an actual treatment for his father's condition, and she was MIA.

Sherry scratched her head.

“Do you think one of Piers' doses would help? Then again...It might kill him or something.” She laughed a little. “Stupid idea. Never mind!” The petite blond came over to Jake's side, keeping him between her and Wesker.

Wesker seemed confused again. He held tightly onto his son's arm for support, frowning and mumbling under his breath.

Jake still had a hand on his father's back, mostly to keep track of him. He looked at his girlfriend, trying not to scowl so much. As usual, Sherry was somehow able to be cheerful even in the worst of circumstances.

"He's talkin' nonsense, but at least he's talking at all," he said, trying to be positive as well. "And moving."

And breathing. Raggedly, but still.

Turning on his heel, Wesker was gone – blinking off into the woods at incredible speeds.

Piers started after him but gave up after only a few steps.

“Oh great!” Sherry growled.

Jake started after him, too, then froze, looking back at Piers and Sherry. He gritted his teeth. 

"Damn it!" From the looks of it, as fast as he could run, his father was much faster. Leaving the others behind wouldn't help much.

Angrily, he waved a hand after Wesker. 

"Well, looks like we're goin' that way."

Sherry groaned and started off, Piers quickly in tow.

“Where the hell do you think he's going?” The little brunette sighed.

“Maybe he'll just wear himself out and collapse,” Sherry said thoughtfully.

Jake easily caught up to them, passing Piers and looking around in the mud. With the heavy rain there should have been clear prints to follow, especially ones this recent.

"He's delirious, he doesn't even know where he is," he called back over his shoulder.

There were footprints leading off into the clearer area of the woods, but they were very light – like the mud didn't have time to compact when Wesker passed over it.

“Maybe we shouldn't even follow him,” Piers said after a moment. He sure didn't sound happy about the suggestion. “We really need to find our way back to the highway.”

Sherry shook her head. 

“We can't just leave him out there, Piers. He's the only one who can make your cure!”

“I know, I know,” the brunette said with a frown. “I don't want to leave him either. I know what he's going through. Being alone isn't a great way to wake up from it.”

Jake was still looking around them, listening to the conversation.

"We're not gonna leave him," he grumbled. There was the cure thing, the fact that his father seemed to believe he was a scared little kid at the moment, and the thought of Redfield's reaction if they showed up without him. Hell no.

Turning to Piers, he said, "One of us should climb a tree, get a better view of where the road is. Hell, we might even spot him from up there."

With a nod, Piers immediately turned and looked for a good tree. He spotted a sturdy one with thick branches and started to climb.

Sherry frowned, crossing her arms.

“Be careful please.”

Piers beamed down at her.

“Don't worry – I feel a lot better!”

Jake stepped closer and hugged an arm around her shoulders. 

"He's okay. The sniper's got the best eyes for this, anyway."

Piers disappeared into the branches and then called back down.

“I'll make it quick – hey, I think I see the highway!” There was a long pause, then Piers started back down the tree. Quickly.

He landed and waved for them to follow him, starting off.

“Wesker's over here. He stopped running.”

Jake exchanged a glance with Sherry before both of them took off that way. It didn't sound like Wesker was up to anything good, whatever he had stopped for.

They suddenly arrived in a clearing where a large tree had fallen over long ago, helping a pond to form around it. With help from all the recent rain, it was several inches deep.

Jake's father was kneeling in the water with his arm braced on the log. He was struggling to suck in air.

Sherry hung back, but Piers stepped into the water around the massive log.

Jake hopped up onto the log and dashed out across it to where Wesker was below, holding out a hand. 

"Piers, stay back! He's not all there." He knelt down on the log and leaned to try and get a look at his father's expression.

"Hey...it's me. Miles," he told the blond. "Why'd you go running off without me?"

Piers took a step back, keeping his eyes focused on Wesker.

The blond stood up and took Jake's hand.

“Sorry. I thought I found a way out,” Wesker said sadly. 

Jake sighed and hopped down into the water beside the blond, clasping his hand in case he tried running off again.

"Well, we'll keep lookin'. Let's stick together from now on, though, okay?" 

“It's getting light. They'll know soon – we have to hurry,” Wesker insisted, pulling Jake back along the log.

"Don't worry, I think I know where we can go," Jake assured him, patting his shoulder. The sky growled overhead, and abruptly cut loose with pouring rain again. "Shit," the redhead grumbled, tugging Wesker by the arm toward the edge of the water. 

His father followed obediently, stretching his free arm out to help him balance. It seemed like such a childish thing to do.

Sherry took Piers' hand and followed after Jake.

“Where are we headed?” The little blond asked, keeping a close eye on Wesker.

Jake shielded his head from the rain, scowling. The water was icy. 

"Shelter's sounding like a good idea. Piers, did you see anything on the road?"

“Nothing ON the road – but the road's that way.” The brunette man pointed back the way they had came from. “We really should follow it. I'm sure that's what everybody else will do.”

Sherry nodded.

“I don't want to sound like a whiner, but I'm exhausted.” She rubbed her back and cringed.

"The road it is," Jake decided, starting the way Piers had pointed. He glanced at Sherry as he and Wesker stepped past. "We'll take it slow and steady, though. No more mad dashes through the woods, okay?"

The last was definitely directed at his father.

“Of course not, Miles – I won't leave you,” Wesker said wholeheartedly, squeezing his son's hand. “We should find a snack too.”

“Yes, Miles, a snack would be great,” Piers said dubiously.

"That's a great idea, er, Albert," Jake replied, patting the blond's back with his free hand. "C'mon, first we go to the hiding place, then I'll see what I can find for us to eat." 

The forest was thinning out as they approached the road — which, unfortunately, did less to keep the rain off of their heads. Hopefully there was some kind of building alongside the road. At this point, even a shed or a dead car would be welcome.

Wesker looked around them and then turned to Jake – smiling brightly.

“We're almost there, Miles.” He followed the road to the left, dragging his son along easily. “Hurry.”

Sherry looked back down the road and frowned.

“I think I see something moving.”

"Whoa, okay! We've gotta stay quiet, remember?" Jake told Wesker, stepping quickly after him. It was easy to forget just how strong his father was until he actually tried to resist being moved around — and failed. 

The redhead glanced back at Piers and Sherry worriedly as they went. He trusted Piers to stick close to Sherry, but didn't want either of them out of his sight.

The two followed after Wesker and Jake quickly. Piers stuck close to the blond, keeping an eye out down the road for whatever she had seen earlier. With the storm, it was amazing that they could see anything. It was just getting worse.

Which reminded Jake of something – how long had it been since Piers' shot?

The redhead quickly squinted at his watch through the rain, still being hauled along by the other arm. The alarm was drawing near. Luckily, Jake still had the extra doses of the treatment that Wesker had prepared back when he'd thought he would be gone for days. 

The rain was coming down so heavy that it created a kind of mist, making it hard to see very far along the road. 

The lamp was hung on the side of a small information stop. It was no bigger than the RV had been.

Piers stopped in front of it, slipping an arm over Sherry's shoulder. He glanced at Jake.

“Well. This is creepy.”

But far ahead, through the rain there was a light. It swayed in the wind – a solar lantern or something?

Wesker seemed to be heading that way. He pulled the redhead along, but his smile had faded. He looked a little pale again.

They made their way toward the light and it turned out to be a rather creepy solar decoration in the shape of a head. The head was made to look like some kind of furry brown ape.

"I second the creepy comment," Jake said drolly, looking at it. He turned back, tugging on Wesker's arm and making a beeline for the little information kiosk. "C'mon, that place is tiny, but it's got a roof."

Shaking, Wesker followed him.

“Miles...it's dark in here.”

Sherry paused at the door, turning back to snag the fuzzy lamp off the door frame. She sat it down in the middle of the room and looked around. The interior of the store was dim but it was dry. The walls were lined with little information brochures and over priced trinkets. There were even a few flimsy pocket knives to choose from.

"Dark's good," Jake assured Wesker, patting his shoulder. "Then nobody'll find us, right?" 

He turned to Piers and Sherry, glancing around the room at the trinkets. There wasn't much by way of cloth to use as blankets, or anything to eat, from the looks of it. The rain was pouring on the rooftop, though, and not their heads, and that was a start.

"It's gonna get dark soon. I say we spend the night here," he told the others. 

“Definitely.” Sherry sighed, settling onto one of two rusty folding chairs crammed in the corner. Piers didn't follow her, though. He paced around the little room, examining everything closely. The short brunette paused in his trip around the kiosk to rummage in a little cabinet.

Wesker shivered deeply, sliding down the wall to take a seat and pulling his knees against his chest. He glanced around the room with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

“Hey,” Piers sudden said, sitting up and holding a big wrinkled paper up to Jake. He smiled. “I found a map. Looks like it's for a park near here, but it covers some of the surrounding area.” 

Jake was over on their side of the room in seconds, leaning to get a glimpse of the map. 

"Finally some good news." He turned his gaze from the map to Piers, though, then glanced back at Sherry shivering on her chair. "We'll read it in a minute. There's gotta be something around here we could burn to warm up."

Piers stood up – faltering slightly as he leaned against the wall. He swallowed and shrugged it off, gesturing past Jake.

“What about all these brochures? And that ugly wooden ape statue out front...” He suggested weakly. His watch suddenly beeped loudly.

Sherry came over, frowning. 

“Is that for your—” She was cut off by Wesker, who was thrashing wildly on the floor.

He abruptly froze, tipping his head up to look at Jake with glowing red eyes. Slowly, he braced a hand on the shelf behind him and stood up.

“Piers?” Sherry gasped, grabbing the brunette's arm. “Are you alright?”

“M-me?” Piers wheezed. “Get...Wesker...”

Wesker's head lowered as he started toward them.

Jake had the vials of Piers' treatment on him. Keeping his eyes locked on his father, he shoved one of them at Sherry.

"Here — stay back." With that, he took off across the room. It was better to meet Wesker over there than right next to Sherry and Piers. His father's eyes were red again — did that mean he'd finally snapped out of his childish delusions? With the way he was glaring at Jake, it sure didn't seem like it.

Wesker stopped as soon as Jake got close – his expression slipping from that cold glare to fear.

“Miles?” He reached out a hand to Jake, but took a step around him instead. The blond cringed and shivered deeply. Leaning toward Jake, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “No...You're not Miles – he's gone.” 

His brows lowered and he stepped back – staggering a little. 

“N-no!” Clutching his head, his father screamed raggedly.

A syringe went skittering past Jake's feet.

“Piers, please! Calm down!” Sherry said quickly.

For a split second, Jake's attention was caught not by the screaming and commotion, but by the syringe rolling by. He turned quickly to see where Piers was, holding out a hand.

"Piers?" He called, glancing quickly at Wesker and then back to the little brunette. "Piers, you still in there? Hey, you've got this. You can hold it together, you've done it before."

“Jake, look out!” Sherry yelled, pressing back against the wall.

Something connected with Jake's chin. A fist. The impact was hard enough to knock him aside – just in time for Piers to step around him and take a swing at Wesker.

The blond caught his hand easily, shoving Piers down to his knees.

Wesker was still delirious, and hadn't even seemed to put full force behind the punch, and yet it knocked Jake off of his feet. How had Piers gotten over here so fast? If he didn't get away from Wesker, it was going to get ugly even faster.

The redhead hopped back to his feet and went to grab his father's shoulders, growling, "Get the hell off him!"

His father looked his way, eyes softening.

“No – you're dead!”

Piers used the moment that Wesker's attention was off of him to punch him swiftly in the stomach. Just like the hit the blond had landed on Jake, the impact didn't seem to phase Wesker – at first.

A buzz crackled through the air, followed suddenly by a blinding burst of electricity as it surged through Wesker's body.

The blond staggered backwards, body convulsing.

Jake quickly knelt down and snatched the syringe off of the floor. 

"Piers, get away from him!" Getting zapped probably wouldn't even faze Wesker for long — and every other time Piers had done it, it had made him angry.

Piers stumbled back behind Jake, gasping and clutching a hand to his head. He needed that shot soon.

To Jake's surprise, Wesker was actually having trouble recovering. He wheezed loudly and rolled onto his back. His eyes and nose had begun to bleed again.

Snarling, Wesker flipped back onto his feet – then was gone. He moved so fast that the mess of papers that coated the floor took a second to follow the motion.

It was quiet for a moment – and then Sherry screamed.


	40. Emergency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting down to the wire, guys. This is the penultimate chapter of Dreamscape. The next one is the last one we wrote two years ago. I don't know if we'll pick it back up again. We haven't written for Resident Evil in years. If/when we do, we'll post it, of course, but 'til then heed the warnings that there's gonna be some big plot threads left hanging, okay? We hope you enjoy watching the characters' antics in these next few chapters!

“Oh thank god – a bed!” Leon said happily, sliding down off of Chris's back. He wrapped an arm around the brunette’s waist and cringed, but started slowly over to the queen bed that took up most of the room. The motel was crappy, but it wasn't all bad.

While it had gone unnoticed by Leon on his way past, there was a small basket of goodies on top of the dresser...and it had a coffee can in it.

Since the blond seemed able to reach the bed on his own, Chris made a beeline for the dresser instead. 

"Hey, Claire," he called, waving his sister over. At the same time, he scooped up the coffee can and gave it a shake to be sure that there was still something inside. It was full.

Claire joined him, a wad of blankets under her arm. She smiled as she stopped by his side.

“Hey.” Something about her smile was sad. She met his gaze and patted his shoulder gently. “I'm sure he's okay – Wesker's a 'god,'” she added sarcastically.

Chris glanced down at the coffee uncertainly and sighed. 

"Sure."

Coffee did remind him of Wesker, especially thanks to the dreams, but he didn't remember mentioning that detail to his sister. Maybe she didn't mean to connect the two.

“Sorry,” she said with a frown. “I didn't mean to bring him up – I just figured that was what was making you make this face.” His sister made a very goofy sad face, sticking out her bottom lip.

“Hey,” Leon managed from somewhere behind them.

Placing a hand on Claire's shoulder, Chris glanced over at the blond and mustered a small smile. 

"What? Can you smell the coffee from across the room?"

He wouldn't put it past Leon.

Leon shook his head, nodding to the door of the hotel quickly. He crawled out of bed and limped over to the little window, pausing there to listen.

Something was scratching at the door.

Sitting the coffee on the bed stand, Chris stepped closer to listen as well. The weather was getting progressively worse; despite the wind and rain, the scratching was easy to hear. It was right outside.

Exchanging a glance with Leon, the brunette leaned a bit closer to listen. The window was too tiny to really look out of, but his best guess was a zombie. 

The scratching stopped abruptly.

With the storm outside it was hard to tell, but Chris could have sworn that he heard soft footsteps heading off away from the door.

Claire pulled her pistol from her holster and leaned against the door to listen, frowning.

Leon circled back to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. He looked pale.

Frowning, Chris made sure the door was secure before heading back over next to Claire. 

"What are the chances that any of those junkies from the road lived to come after us?"

It didn't make much sense. If somebody had been listening at the door, there was no reason to scratch at it and let the people inside know. If it was a zombie, why would it have just quietly left?

"We'll have to stay on our guard no matter what's out there," he concluded tiredly, poking at the goodie basket on the bed stand again. There was chocolate in there.

Claire tucked her gun away and went to put Leon back to bed. The blond didn't protest and was soon drifting off again. Chris's sister joined him again, crossing her arms.

“I don't like it – but it's not like we can go charging off to find whatever it was.” Claire scowled and finally noticed the coffee can that the big brunette was holding. “What's that? Treasure?”

For just a moment, Chris recalled when he'd first noticed that the can was full, and smiled. So the coffee hadn’t been what had made her mention Wesker, then. Pulling back the lid, he held it up for his sister to see. 

"A whole sealed can. Think we can rig up a filter?"

The brunette woman smiled back and nodded happily. 

“I'll see what I can find.” With that, she turned and started searching through the little wet bar that took up that half of the hotel room. 

The room had apparently been occupied before the outbreak. There were some raincoats hanging by the door, a wallet and shades on the kitchen counter, and even a pair of keys in the goodie basket.

There was also a duffel bag and several small flower print suitcases sitting just inside the closet by the bathroom.

Chris sighed and sat the coffee back on the bed stand. Crossing the room, he looked over the suitcases and coats. There might be something useful in the luggage...but the sunglasses made him pause. 

They reminded him of Wesker, of course. There was no way he could look at black shades and not think of Wesker anymore.

Picking them up, he turned them slowly over in his hands, examining the black sheen of the metal frames and the light reflected in the lenses. Himself reflected in the lenses. God, he looked like a mess. There was mud and scrapes on his face, his hair flattened by the rain, and several days' worth of stubble on his chin. 

The regular civvie clothing he'd gotten at the mall was splashed with mud and more than a bit tattered by now. He'd actually gone out of his way to hug Wesker right after changing into that outfit. Wesker had kissed him.

He'd never kissed Wesker on his own, had he? Not the real one.

“Okay,” Claire said suddenly, standing up to sit some things on the counter. “I found a filter and a bowl – now all we need is water and a fire.” She felt over her pockets and frowned. “Maybe something to burn,” she mumbled. It occurred to Chris that she hadn't been talking to him at all. She looked a little tired herself.

Running a hand through her hair, she spotted the suitcases and went to rummage in them. 

Leon stirred and sat up a bit, also glancing after Claire. He then looked up at Chris – who was still standing there holding the shades. The blond's gaze flicked down to the sunglasses and he frowned.

Almost guiltily, Chris sat the shades back on the counter, but not before catching Leon's look at them. He ran a hand through his hair and knelt to look through the suitcase Claire didn't already have. 

"There's plenty of rain water out there."

“Fire's more of an issue. I don't suppose you still have that old lighter?” Claire joked. She stood up stiffly, dusting her knees and stretching. “I guess we can always try the old bow and bark method.”

"No more smoking or drinking for me," her brother said flatly. He'd quit smoking long before drinking was even a problem, actually. Standing, the brunette looked around the small room critically. "Didn't Hunnigan say there might be an emergency kit around here somewhere? Might have flares," he offered.

Claire nodded. 

“It would probably be in the office.” She gestured to the door. “I just didn't want to find out who was scratching earlier.” She stepped across the room and leaned to peek out of the window. “I can't see anything.”

Chris picked up the wallet from the counter, flipping through it in hopes of finding a book of paper matches. Pretty rare these days, but there was a chance the hotel was so cheap they would use the paper kind.

"It's not worth risking a fight over," he told his sister, more glumly than he planned to sound. He was actually very much looking forward to that coffee. The dreams made him realize how much he missed it. 

Claire sighed and perched on the edge of the bed glumly. 

Leon looked depressed about the idea too – reaching a hand out to pat Claire's back. He sighed. 

“I don't want to complain, but I need some kind of disinfectant. Did you guys find any booze?”

Claire looked his way and then up at Chris, biting her lip.

“Just a big bottle of whiskey.”

Finding nothing useful in the wallet, the big brunette tossed it back onto the counter. Turning to Leon and Claire, he crossed his arms.

"If there's a first aid kit, that would be better."

“Okay then.” Claire stood up and pulled her pistol back out, making a beeline for the door. “You guys stay here.”

“Wait!” Leon called after her. “You can't go out there alone!” He waved to Chris. “I can stay here – I'll be okay on my own.”

The brunette woman shook her head. 

“No way. You can't even stand up on your own!”

"I meant I'd go," Chris told them both tiredly, stepping over next to the door. There was a rather ominous roll of thunder outside. 

“No you aren't,” Claire said sternly. “You aren't doing that great yourself!” With that, she turned and stepped outside.

“Chris, go with her!” Leon said angrily. 

"No, she's right," Chris said, watching the door close quietly behind his sister. "She can handle herself. If she ran into trouble, I'd get in her way." He wrapped his arms around himself, frowning at the door. "Any sounds or more than five minutes and I'll go after her, though."

Groaning, Leon sank back into the bed. He snuggled his face against the pillow and sighed in irritation.

“You were right too. You said it wasn't worth a fight.” The blond glanced up at him, still scowling. “She's just as tired as us.”

"If there's anybody else there, she'll come back," Chris told him, blinking. "Leon, she wouldn't pick a fight over a first aid kit." He'd taught Claire how to size up a situation, and was confident that he was right. Unless somebody was waiting out there to sneak an attack...

He looked at the door again unhappily. Now it felt like she'd been gone too long, even though it had been about two minutes.

Apparently, Chris's expressions were easy to read. The blond seemed to pick up on Chris's concern for his sister and cleared his throat. 

“Hey,” Leon said. He sat back up and sighed. “I know she's not stupid. She'll be fine.” He gave Chris a tired smile and crawled out of bed again. Slowly, he made his way to the window and looked out of it. His expression told Chris that he wasn't convinced of his own words though.

"She's too smart for her own good sometimes," Chris said quietly, watching him. Leon really shouldn't have been out of bed, but he could understand the restlessness. That, and the blond had no idea just how close he'd come to dying the night before. Chris was pretty sure he'd been unconscious when he landed in the stream.

The RV and the disaster surrounding it came to mind again, and he sighed. 

"What after this? What if we don't find Wesker again?" There was no way they could cure Piers without Wesker, so heading to the mountain lab was kind of pointless. Assuming they even found Piers again...

“We do what we've been doing since day one.” Leon sat up and looked at him with a shrug. “We keep going. Everyone knew that they needed to head to the mountain lab. If anyone made it, we owe it to them to try and make it there, too.” He frowned and patted his breast pocket. “We've all been through this stuff before. Wesker, Claire...Sherry.” He turned and looked back out the window, eyes growing distant.

"Claire said Piers is with Sherry," Chris reminded him. They had been apart awhile — that was getting to be a worry. Piers had to be overdue for another of his treatments by now.

"You're right, we should stick to the mission," he added wearily. "I just hope nobody's waiting on us for help, because that means we're leaving without them."

“Claire said whiskey, right?” Leon asked suddenly, limping over slowly to the wet bar. “That actually sounds good right now...”

Chris sighed and stepped over to sit heavily on the edge of the bed. As nice as it sounded to blur away all of the things weighing on his mind, he wasn't even tempted by the whiskey. That was just asking for trouble. 

Thunder grumbled above them again. What was taking Claire so long?

As if summoned, the door pushed open and his sister came back in, dripping water all over the place. She shut and locked the door – then joined Chris on the bed. She had a first aid kit under her arm.

“Alright. That wasn't so bad.”

“Nobody out there?”

Claire shook her head and shoved the first aid kit at her brother. She promptly started stripping and wringing out her clothes.

“The whole place looks like a mess, but I saw a few cars. We should check them out when it gets light again.”

Taking the kit, Chris headed over to Leon to give his sister a minute to get her clothes sorted out. Sitting the kit on the counter, he opened it and looked through the contents quickly.

"I was about to come after you," he said over his shoulder, shifting the smaller bandages and tubes of ointment onto the counter and removing a small plastic divider at the bottom of the kit. Bingo. "Looks we have two flares."

Leon looked up at him and smirked.

“Can we use one to make coffee?”

The brunette picked up one of the flares and smiled at him wearily. 

"Seems like an emergency to me."  


* * *

  
The thunder was getting worse again. Rebecca sighed and shifted her position in the crook of the tree branches, huddling into a tighter ball. 

Like the various cuts and scrapes she'd gotten when she was tossed away from the fight on the road, the cold and wet weren't fatal, but they were certainly annoying. 

Her wrist in particular was throbbing. It was the worst injury she had, and scratched bad enough to wrap, but she could hardly complain. She hadn't gotten shot or eaten by zombies, and once it got light out, she was going to go locate Billy and the others.

In the meantime, she was grateful that her backpack was waterproof, or Wesker's tablet would have been soaked through by now...

The sky growled angrily and a gust threatened to push her out of the tree. With a deafening crackle, lightening lit up across the sky.

Maybe the tree wasn't the best idea?

In the instant that the lightning had flashed, a figure had appeared at the bottom of the tree. Tall and dark. They stood there, still as a statue. A chill tickled down Rebecca's spine as two blood red glinting points turned her way.

Logic said to get the hell out of the tree before it got struck by lightning, but instinct was protesting that being up higher than the red-eyed figure was non-negotiable. Before she could react to either, the lightning flashed again, and recognition won out. Rebecca sat up, forgetting her wrist and wincing.

"C-Captain Wesker?"

“Officer Chambers,” the blond said as he approached the tree. He looked up at her, blinking as rain landed on his face. “What are you doing up in a tree? Where is Chris?” Wesker looked around them and frowned.

Relieved that it wasn't a zombie, the medic climbed down from the tree before the lightning had a chance to strike again. Third time would probably be the charm.

"The tree was the only shelter around." Rebecca sighed, turning to him and straightening her backpack straps. "You're the first person I've..." She stopped short, finally getting a better look at him. "...seen." 

Wesker had blood and mud in his hair, on his face, and staining his clothes. His hair was the messiest she'd ever seen it, and his gloves and sunglasses were missing. "Are you okay?" She asked carefully, looking him over.

Wesker ran a hand through his hair, frowning and looking around them.

“I can’t remember how I arrived here. What happened?” He looked her up and down too. “Where is everyone?”

"You haven't seen anyone else, either?" Rebecca stepped closer to him, examining the blood on his face and chest worriedly. It looked like his mouth had been bleeding at the very least; there was a trickle mark coming from the corner. "You're the first person I've seen since the road."

A deafening crash of thunder sounded above them, and lightning followed far too fast for comfort. The little medic cringed, waving for Wesker to follow her. 

"Let's find some kind of shelter, and then we can talk, okay?"

Wesker looked around them and nodded, trailing after her without protest. Without his sunglasses, it was strange to see the emotions going through the blond's face. He seemed confused...worried, almost.

“Are you injured?” Wesker asked suddenly. He stepped up to walk beside her, looking her over critically.

Rebecca held up her wrapped wrist. 

"Only minor ones. I'll be fine." Thunder growled again, and the rain started coming down harder. Frowning, the brunette shielded her eyes with a hand and looked around them. 

They were in the middle of the woods. The best chance for shelter was probably sitting under a tree, unless they were lucky enough to find a hollow log. That sounded like a children's book... 

"C'mon, let's go sit under that big tree," she told Wesker, pointing it out. The tree was shorter than some others, but rather squat — the branches stuck further out from the trunk than the evergreens around them did. Better than sitting out here in the mud, anyway. 

The tall blond followed along at her side, glancing off into the dark area around them.

“Where is Chris?” He asked again, looking down at her with those eerie red eyes. “I can't seem to remember...anything.” He frowned and wiped a hand through his hair again. “I recall going into the bedroom in the RV but after that—” He stopped abruptly and just shook his head. 

Taking a seat at the base of the tree, Rebecca took off her backpack and placed it beside her, sighing.

"You were pretty feverish, so I'm not surprised. Come here, let me examine you." She pulled a pair of latex gloves from the pack and put them on, looking at him expectantly.

The blond stood just out from under the tree and looked down at her. His eyebrows lowered.

“No.”

"Why not? You don't trust me?" Rebecca frowned, getting to her feet and placing her hands on her hips. "I don't know if you know this, but you're covered in blood." 

She made a gesture toward him in general, since the blood really was all over. "And the last time I saw you, you were burning up with fever and bleeding from your mouth and eyes. It's nice that you're able to walk on your own again and all, but I KNOW you're not perfectly fine."

The blond approached her very carefully. He was still on edge. He stopped just in front of her, finally looking down at his clothes and hands with a frown.

“There is no telling if this blood is mine.”

"There's a line from the corner of your mouth." Rebecca pointed it out seriously. "Unless you BIT somebody, most of this is from when you had the fever." She wiped wet bangs off of her forehead, forgetting her injured wrist and wincing at touching the bandaged spot. "Look, Captain Wesker, you seem a lot better than last time I saw you. I just want to make sure you don't keel over later when zombies are around or something. Okay? I-I don't think I could drag you anywhere, even without this wrist sprain."

Wesker took a seat under the tree finally.

“You shouldn't climb trees with an injured wrist – you could fall to your death,” he said, picking a dried muddy leaf off of his sweater sleeve. “Then the group wouldn't have a medic. Without the RV, it will take us longer to reach the mountains – Sherry may even need you to help deliver the baby.”

"Or you," Rebecca replied, moving closer and immediately looking over his hands and face. She paused at the glowing red eyes, which looked pretty ominous in this light, and the frown on her face faded. "We need to find her and the others again. I hate to think of her or Piers in this kind of weather." 

Piers...didn't Piers need to have shots regularly? What would happen if he didn't get them?

“Piers is a concern, yes. I have no way of telling when he will need his next treatment. Jake is intelligent. He should be able to keep track of it until we can find them again.” The blood looked over at her. “But we need to find them soon. I don't trust Chris to keep himself safe, either.”

"He needed help with that even back in STARS," Rebecca replied knowingly, shaking her head. That was so long ago... It was very strange to be on speaking terms with Wesker after all of this time. She turned and pulled some medical supplies out of her bag, dabbing the blood off of the blond's face. "So, you have no memories between here and going into the RV? A lot happened since then. You don't even know what happened TO the RV, do you?" She looked up at his eyes again, worriedly this time.

“No.” Wesker shook his head. “I...was dreaming since then.” He frowned and looked away from her. After a moment looking off into the darkness, the blond looked back to her. “What happened to the RV?”

Rebecca had to wonder what someone like Wesker would dream about. 

She only took a deep breath, though, and replied, "It got stuck on the road. The repellent wore off, and when the zombies were all around us, that's when the men after me showed up." Heavily, she added, "They brought guns. Grenades. Something blew up near the RV and I went flying. I woke up in a tree, and I haven't seen anybody but you since."

Fixing sad green eyes on him, she added, "You were in the RV with Sherry, Jake and Piers. Piers was right next to you on the bed — a-are you sure you haven't seen any of them?"

To her surprise, those blood red eyes softened as Wesker shook his head.

“Do you know which way the road is from here?”

"I know which way north is, but that's about it." Rebecca sat back and looked his face over. Now that she'd wiped the blood off, she could see that there was not a mark on him underneath it. 

"It's been two days since then," she added quietly. "If the tablet's clock is right, anyway."

Surprised flashed over Wesker's face as he sat up straighter.

“My tablet. It survived.” He held out a hand to her. “The data on it is critical to finding a permanent cure to the viruses. It is unfortunate that the lab equipment was lost. We should head toward the mountains as soon as we find Chris and Sherry.”

Rebecca pressed another piece of gauze into his hand. 

"Here — you wouldn't want to get blood all over it. Thank god my backpack's waterproof, or it probably wouldn't still work." She turned and draw the tablet out of the backpack carefully, clicking the screen on. '11:42 PM' glowed brightly out at them.

"We should go if we find them," she agreed quietly. "Billy will find me again. He always does." She hadn't seen him since the road, either. That he'd taken this long to find her again was actually really unusual. 

Scowling at the gauze, Wesker dabbed the blood off of the corners of his mouth and then tucked it into his pocket.

“We need to get moving,” he said darkly, stepping in front of her and kneeling. “It will be much faster if I carry you.”

"Where are we going to go?" Rebecca looked up at him uncertainly, but turned the tablet off and tucked it away safe again. Carefully zipping up the backpack and pulling the straps on, the little brunette stood and stepped over to climb onto his back. 

Wesker had been unable to stand last time she saw him; she was worried he wasn't as recovered as he acted, but there really wasn't any other option besides staying under the tree and wasting more time. 

He was right, they had to get moving. Poor Sherry was out there somewhere in all of this.  


* * *

  
The coffee smelled amazing. It was heavy and roasty. The bed was a nice change from sleeping on the van floor too. It vaguely occurred to Chris that Leon and Claire might drink all the coffee before he got to it – but a kiss on his cheek woke him up. 

“Your phone is ringing,” Wesker's smooth voice whispered in his ear. “Do you want me to answer it?”

Wesker? Chris quickly opened his eyes, trying to sit up and see the blond's face before the obvious occurred to him. He was in the dream world, of course. 

The blood looked very under the weather but also had a warm smile on his face. He leaned against Chris and kissed him slowly.

“We could just ignore it, I guess – but it's been ringing for the last ten minutes.”

Right. Al was still sick. Was Birkin still around? How much time had passed?

The last thing Chris wanted to do right now was to go answer the phone. Why couldn't he just have a dream with him and Wesker in it? He turned over to face the blond and hugged him tightly, sighing.

"It's probably Umbrella," he grumbled.

“No, it's YOUR phone, Chris.” The blond sighed, wrapping an arm around the brunette's neck. “And it's Leon calling.” Al held up the phone and looked at it dully. “It's still dark out, are you two going out for breakfast or something?” He asked, glancing at Chris with a raised eyebrow.

The brunette glanced at the phone and frowned, uncertain. He had no idea if he'd arranged to meet Leon in the dream world.

"I...I don't think so." He sighed and reached for the phone, staying cuddled up close to his husband. "I better answer. Maybe he's in some kind of trouble." Leading that Krauser guy on seemed kind of risky.

Al handed it to him and crawled out of bed with much effort. He made his way very slowly out of the bedroom.

“The coffee is done,” he mumbled back over his shoulder. Somehow, Chris's husband had managed to sneak out of bed and make coffee without waking him up. Birkin was probably still on their couch, too.

"Okay," Chris said, flipping the phone open and holding it to his ear. Watching the bathroom door close behind the blond, he asked the caller, "Hello? Leon?"

“Oh thank god!” Came the out of breath voice on the other end of the phone. There were loud stomping and crackling sounds – like someone walking through the woods. Leon stopped abruptly, panting for a moment before he continued. Was that an owl hooting in the background? “G-good morning.”

Chris sat up in bed, running his free hand through his hair. 

"Uh...good morning," he replied dubiously. "You in some kind of trouble? Al says the phone was ringing for a long time, but I just woke up."

“So...” He took a deep breath and started explaining quickly. “Me and Krauser went spear fishing yesterday. He was really good – but I beat him in a contest, so we went back to the cabin to celebrate. After a couple beers – I don't know!” He took a quick breath and mumbled under his breath, before the crunching footsteps continued more quickly. “One thing led to the next and — and I kissed him. Then we...” 

Leon paused for a long moment, dropping his voice to a whisper. “The short version is – we had sex, I panicked, I'm lost in the woods now and I'm pretty sure I hear a cougar stalking me. C-can you Poogle me and tell me which way a road is? Please?” He stopped walking to catch his breath again. “I'll babysit for a month. Anything. Please,” he added desperately.

“And for god's sake, don't tell Claire about this.” The blond groaned pathetically.

"Okay..." 

Chris was silent for a long moment, letting all of that process. Well, apparently the Leon in the dreams was gay. No, he had still had a thing for Ada. Bisexual? Not really that important at the moment. Climbing out of bed, the brunette glanced at the bathroom door as he headed for the hallway. "Calm down. You wouldn't hear a cougar unless it was screaming at you," he sighed. 

Which meant a stalking cougar...could be there, and completely silent. Probably not helping Leon calm down. 

"Uh. Listen, do you know where the cabin is? Like, any towns it's near, anything?" He made a beeline for the computer room, keeping his voice low to try and avoid waking anybody else up. It seemed early, but if Wesker had made coffee, it was close to time to wake up...right?

As he passed the living room, he caught a glimpse of Birkin. He was sacked out on the couch, tiny Sherry curled up on top of his chest. They seemed undisturbed by Chris passing by.

Leon took a deep breath.

“You're coming to get me? Oh my god. I love you,” he said almost tearfully on the other end of the line.

Chris couldn't help a small chuckle at that. 

"Let me do a search and figure out where you're at. You still hear anything out there besides you?" He turned on the computer he remembered using to look at the flash drive earlier, sitting down in the chair. "You need to give me a town name or something to search, Leon."

As the screen lit up though, an open file showed on the desktop. The text was very dense, but the title caught Chris's attention. 

'Test C successful. Additional test subjects required for final stage.' 

Halfway down the page was a large display of some kind of blood cell. It looked vaguely familiar. As he had suspected, the thumb drive activated some kind of file when he removed it. Wesker seemed to like that trick.

“I don't know,” Leon whispered loudly into the phone, reminding Chris that he was still there. “I heard it a few minutes ago, but it's quiet now.”

Frowning at the file onscreen, Chris replied, "Okay. How about water? Can you hear any moving water?" He couldn't help looking over the file on the screen. Much as he wanted to believe that the dream version of Wesker was not involved in anything evil with Umbrella, there was mention of test subjects, and...it was UMBRELLA.

The file read something about treating cancerous cells with some kind of regenerating something. It was in very thick, science-y language but not too far down in the file something else jumped out at him. It was an inserted note from Wesker to Birkin in the middle of the file, highlighted in yellow.

'Bill,

We can't go through with this. I will not give you any more blood samples until we find a safer way to grow the cure – the cadavers are not an option anymore. We may well create something far more deadly than cancer if we aren't careful.

Your friend,  
Albert.'

Something like…zombies?

“I hear something,” Leon hissed suddenly.

Snapped from the text to what he was hearing, Chris whispered back, "Put your back to a tree, and cover up the light from the phone." 

The only thing that Leon was most likely to run into out in that forest was Krauser, but Chris decided it would be mean to point that out. He wondered if he should drive out there to rescue Leon. That meant leaving his sick husband to take care of the kids — and alone with Birkin.

He looked back at the files uneasily. Was Wesker talking about samples of his own blood? If he was anything like the real Wesker, his blood would definitely help with research about resisting disease...

“Oh m — god.” The blond breathed, crackling as the phone's reception skipped. “I think it's a bear,” he managed – then the call ended.


	41. Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Thank you so, so much for sticking with us through 41 — 41! — chapters of The Dreamscape. This is the last chapter we wrote two years ago, and there's far too much going on to resolve it all in just over 5,000 words. BeingCouy and I have been discussing the possibility of writing on this story again. It seems a shame to leave it just cut off like this, and we'd like to see the characters' stories completed, too. 
> 
> I will not guarantee if/when we'll work on it, because I don't know. I do know I won't have a new chapter for you next week, and I'm sorry that's the case. Just wanted to leave you with some assurances that talks are going on about this. Thank you again for being such a great readership. Your comments make our day, and we love seeing you cheer on the characters as they stumble through whatever obstacles we've laid in their paths.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter for now!

"Leon? Hey!" Chris moved the phone away from his ear, looking at it with a frown. Maybe he thought the sound from the phone would attract attention. Damn, Chris couldn't just abandon him out there to the wilderness...

On the other hand, if Bill was after his husband's blood (literally), no way in hell did he leave Al alone with him...

Getting to his feet, he closed the laptop lid and dialed the only other number that might get results right now.

"C'mon, Joseph, pick up..."

“Hey Chris. If you're drunk again – I'm gonna have to scold you. I promised Claire I would,” came the tired-sounding reply.

"What? I'm not drunk," Chris sighed, glancing at the door to the hallway. Great, now he didn't want to let anybody out of his sight with Birkin in the house. What if he'd figured out that Jake had Wesker's blood type? 

"Sorry to call so late. Early? Never mind — do you have Krauser's phone number?" He asked, pacing. Hopefully Leon was talking to the guy instead of being mauled by a bear, but he'd rather make sure.

“Yeah…” Joseph said slowly. “I really don't want to ask, but why?”

"It's kind of an emergency," Chris explained hurriedly. "What's the number?"

“Alright, alright.” Joseph gave him the number and sighed. “Just let me know how it turns out, okay? I feel like we haven't talked all week.”

"Sorry about that," Chris said quickly. "I'll explain later, I promise. Thanks, Joseph." He hung up before the guy could reply, dialing Krauser's number in. This was bound to be awkward...if he even picked up.

It rang for a few seconds, then picked up.

“...Hello?” A gruff voice answered after a long pause. 

"Krauser? This is Chris," the brunette said shortly. "Did you find Leon yet?"

“Great,” The other man grumbled under his breath. “Why the hell did he call you? Are you two dating? I should have known,” Krauser growled.

"You know I'm married, right?" Chris grumbled right back. "Look, he's my friend. He called me from out in the woods, and his call got cut off, and I'm worried about him. Are you at least out looking for him?"

“Yeah. For the last hour,” Krauser said. Chris could hear the large man walking through the forest, snapping twigs. “I'll find him. I hunt.”

"He's been out there for an hour?" Chris asked dubiously. "When he was on the phone with me he thought he heard some wild animal out there with him. Make sure he can tell it's you and not a bear." That could easily have been Krauser following him, then. Hopefully it hadn't actually been a bear...

“Leon!” Krauser called off into the woods. It echoed. “I have my bow dart gun! If you hear something, don't move!” There was a pause, then he added to Chris, “I found bear prints fifteen minutes back.”

"WHAT?" Chris had pretty much forgotten about the sleeping people in his house, as well as the fact that he'd left the hallway door standing open. "The last thing Leon said before the call cut was that he saw a bear!"

“Dammit,” Krauser grumbled, picking up his pace. “I'll call you back.” Then the call ended.

Chris finally stopped pacing, frowning at his phone. Even if he wanted to, there wasn't any way to go after Leon — neither he or Krauser had said where they were. Hopefully the big blond cared enough about his friend to get him to safety. At least if he hunted, bears didn't scare him.

Stepping out into the hallway, he looked around the quiet house with its roasty coffee scent and sighed. Right. Wesker. Birkin. He had to talk to them while both of them were there.

The big brunette stepped into the living room and crossed to go pour the coffee, glancing at Bill and Sherry as he went. The bandaids on them reminded him of how they'd wound up here last dream, and that still bothered him. Why couldn't these dreams be a nice escape from reality? Things had gotten so complicated, even here.

Things were never simple with Wesker involved.

Speak of the devil... Wesker stepped out of the kitchen and offered him a cup of coffee.

“That was fast. Is everything okay?” He shivered and hugged his blanket around his shoulders. “Because if it is, I'm going back to bed. I made a breakfast bake – it's done when the timer goes off.”

The two Birkins on the couch stirred and Sherry lifted her head to look at them with sleepy blue eyes. A cute little camo print bandaid was on her rosy cheek.

“Uncle Al?”

Wesker just glanced her way, giving a little wave.

Chris shifted the coffee to his other hand and wrapped his husband in a one-armed hug. 

"Nothing staying up is gonna help. You get some rest, okay?" Wesker felt very warm, even through his blanket. Chris wondered where the real Wesker was. Probably in the rain somewhere, cold. Better that than dead, though.

He shot Birkin a glance as he sat back. 

“Let me send Bill home first,” the blond whispered, pressing a kiss onto Chris's cheek. “I'm sure things have calmed down now.” He stepped lightly around Chris and made his way to the couch.

Sherry crawled down off of the couch, rubbing her eyes.

“Where's Piers?” She asked shyly. 

“He's still sleeping,” Al replied quietly, patting her head.

"Good morning," Chris told the little girl, smiling. "You want something to drink? I think we've got juice in the fridge." Judging by the juice boxes on the coffee table, they'd had some juice with the pizza the night before. Hopefully there was more somewhere. It was weird not knowing his way around his own kitchen...

Sherry nodded and toddled off into the kitchen.

Al shook Bill's shoulder lightly.

“Hey. You should probably head home.”

The dozing blond sat up and nodded, covering a yawn with his hand. 

“Can I grab a cup of coffee for the road?”

Al nodded.

“You can drink it here if you want, but I need to get back to bed.” He gave his friend a pat on the back and made his way slowly back toward the bedroom. “Give me a call when you make it home.”

“Sure,” Bill called after him, already looking up at Chris with suspicion.

The brunette toasted him with his coffee mug. 

"I'll go pour a cup for you." He turned and headed into the kitchen, checking to see where Sherry was. If the juice was up high, there was no way she could reach it. 

The tiny blond girl was digging through the bottom of the fridge when he came into the kitchen. She was very focused and didn't seem to notice him.

Who the hell would beat up a little kid?

Sitting his coffee on the counter, he stepped over near the fridge, peeking around the door. "Hey, Piers says your restaurant's doing pretty good," he said idly.

Sherry looked way up at him and smiled brightly.

“We've seen a profit increase of over 25%! Dad says he'll keep eating there too, so that's like 50%!” She turned around and hugged his leg, big blue eyes still staring up at him. “Will you eat there too?”

She was so tiny, but it was definitely Sherry. Chris smiled and scooped her up the same way he did with the little Piers in these dreams, trying to ignore the bandaid on her cheek. 

"Of course! That's a lot of profit," he told the little girl. "You and Piers are really good at this business thing." He wondered where the real Sherry was. Hopefully with Jake and Piers, and not out in the storm. That seemed so far removed from the dream, like it was in another lifetime.

Sherry rested a hand on his neck and looked around the kitchen.

“Piers said that when we grow up, we'll go into business together.” She giggled and then stopped abruptly – spotting the coffee pot. Sherry looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “Can I have a cup of coffee?”

Chris looked at the big, shining blue eyes trained on his and sighed. 

"I don't know, Sherry. Coffee's for grown ups. Maybe we should ask your daddy about that."

He had a feeling Bill didn't pay close enough attention to Sherry to even notice whether she ever sneaked some of his coffee, but Sherry wasn't his kid — it seemed like it wasn't really up to him. The little girl was so tiny and light in his arms. Did they feed her enough? Now he was worried about sending her home. 

Sherry stuck out her bottom lip.

“What about some tea? Daddy lets me drink tea – and Piers said that he has blueberry tea!” She explained quickly, looking back at the kitchen as they walked.

"Tea? Tea is okay," Chris said, pausing near the living room door. Blueberry tea didn't have any caffeine, even. Go figure that Piers would like blueberry tea, too. He seemed to like blueberry everything. He turned around and headed back into the kitchen, smiling at Sherry. "I'll make you tea. Let me give your daddy his coffee real quick first, okay?"

He looked around the kitchen thoughtfully, then brought Sherry over to the cupboard and opened it, pointing to the mugs lining the inside. "Which cup do you want?" 

With the household's coffee habits, it wasn't much surprise that Wesker had a whole rainbow of coffee mugs in there.

“The blue one,” Sherry said happily, reaching to pick it out of the cabinet. “Can I stay the night again?” She added randomly. 

Chris took hold of the cup, too, in case she didn't realize how heavy it was. 

"If you and your daddy need to stay over here again, that would be okay. I think you guys are gonna go home after we have the tea and coffee today, though," he said nicely, putting the cup on the counter beside his coffee mug. "You want to sit at the table while I make the tea?"

“Okay,” Sherry said, her cute smile fading. As Chris placed her at the table, she rubbed her cheek sadly – small fingers feeling the bandaid. She leaned on the table to watch him. “Can I say bye to Piers?”

"Sure," Chris told her, filling the mug and putting it into the microwave to heat. He glanced over his shoulder at the little girl. "Breakfast is going to be done soon, so it's time for him and Jake to wake up."

He got another mug down and poured coffee in it for Bill.

His phone suddenly started to vibrate, rattling in his pocket.

Sherry glanced at it.

“Is that the Leon guy?”

"Oh! Probably is," Chris smiled at her...before hastily pulling out the phone and flipping it open, stepping toward the living room with the coffee. "Hello? Leon?"

“Hey,” came the short reply. It wasn't Leon – it was Krauser. “Found Leon.”

Pausing in the doorway, Chris shot a worried glance at Bill. 

"Is he okay? Was there a bear?" If Krauser was calling him with Leon there, his pal knew he'd called Krauser. Awkward.

“We're at the hospital. He wants you to pick him up – he doesn't want me to know where he lives,” the large man added in a growl.

"Ouch," Chris said sympathetically, stepping over and offering the coffee to Bill. "I'd go get him if I could, but I have to take care of my husband — he's sick in bed. Would Leon let you drive him here? I trust you with my address," he added mildly.

Hopefully Bill didn't ask what this was all about.

The scientist looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing as he accepted the coffee.

“Fine. I'll drop him off,” Krauser replied before hanging up.

Well, Chris thought, at least that proved that Leon was well enough to tell Krauser the address. Still, if they had to go to the hospital… He sighed and put the phone away, turning to Bill. 

"Sorry the coffee took so long. Sherry wanted tea, and I thought it might cheer her up a little."

Bill blinked up at him.

“Alright.” He took a sip from his coffee, shrinking down a little. 

Chris studied his posture for a moment, thoughtful. 

"Hey, you can come sit with us in the kitchen if you want. She's having tea, and I have to keep an eye on the breakfast bake in the oven," he explained, glancing at the front door. It would probably take a few minutes for Krauser to drive there, right?

“I guess,” Bill said thoughtfully. He got up and ducked around Chris toward the kitchen. “We really should get going soon.”

Chris stepped after him, heading to the microwave to get the tea mug and bringing it over to Sherry. 

"Okay! You said blueberry, right?" He asked the girl.

“Yep!” Sherry nodded. “Hi daddy!” She said to Bill. “Uncle Chris said I could stay over again!” She clasped her little hands in front of her chin and fixed him with puppy eyes. “Can I?”

“Um,” Bill took a seat beside her, putting an arm around her. “I'll have to talk to your mother.” He said quietly, placing a kiss on Sherry's head. “Okay?”

“Okay,” the little blond said sadly, resting her head on her arms.

Chris rummaged in the cabinets for a moment, guessing correctly that Wesker would store the boxes of tea close to the coffee maker and coffee mugs. Retrieving a blueberry tea bag, he stepped over to the table and unwrapped it for the little girl, offering it to her.

"Here you go. Remember to hold onto the string before you drop it in."

“Okay!” Sherry smiled and took it, showing it to her dad. “Can we get some tea too?”

Birkin just nodded, glancing up at Chris.

“Is Al doing better? I didn't get a chance to ask him.”

"Yeah, he seems a little better," Chris said, recalling his husband barely able to sit up the night before. "Still needs a lot of rest, though. He didn't have to cook, I could've ordered in..." He looked at the oven and sighed. The breakfast bake definitely smelled good. Wesker could probably cook good food in his sleep.

The bake smelled like sausage and bacon for the most part. Was it just meat?

“He likes taking care of you,” Bill said, sipping his coffee again. “For the most part,” he added under his breath.

Sherry carefully dipped her teabag into the cup, bobbing it up and down with both hands.

Picking up his mug, Chris turned and leaned back against the counter. 

Sipping his coffee finally, he admitted, "And I let him do that a little too much. Sometimes somebody's got to take care of him, though. It's hard to even convince him to let me."

“After years of you barely taking care of yourself, do you blame him?” Bill sighed. “I guess we don't really have the time to care about ourselves lately. We're so close,” he added softly, eyebrows pinching.

“Can I go wake up Piers?” Sherry asked, glancing between Chris and Birkin. “The tea has to brew,” she said confidently.

Bill glanced at Chris.

“Is it time for him to get up?”

"Yeah, breakfast is almost done," Chris agreed, smiling at the little girl. "Go ahead. Maybe two of you put together will be enough to wake Jake up."

“Yay!” The little blond cheered as she darted from the room. Birkin leaned and watched her go, frowning.

He turned back and sipped on his coffee more quickly, eyes flicking nervously Chris's direction.

Chris watched her go, too, then took another sip of his coffee. 

"It'd probably go faster if you and Al agreed on what you were doing."

Bill sighed and propped his forehead on his hand, running his fingers through his hair.

“We'll find another way, but we need to release what we have first.” The scruffy man looked at Chris tiredly. “People are waiting on that cure. People like Spencer. We can't just decide to quit the race while we're standing on the finish line – it's foolish.”

Chris frowned at mention of Spencer's name. Great, even he was still alive in this dream world.

"Unless stepping over that line crosses a few others at the same time." Chris left the counter finally, stepping over to the table with his coffee mug still in hand and giving the scientist a stare. "Right?"

Bill looked up at him over his coffee, eyebrows lowering darkly.

“It depends on the prize.”

The sound of the doorbell made him flinch. He instantly got to his feet and hurried out of the kitchen, looking around.

“Sherry?”

“We're going to wake Jake up, daddy!” The little blond called from somewhere in the hallway. Birkin headed that way, practically falling over the coffee table while he tried to keep an eye on the front door.

Was he expecting someone to show up?

Frowning after him, Chris left his coffee in the kitchen and headed for the front door. He wondered for a second if it was going to be someone other than Leon and Krauser on the other side, but told himself that he could handle almost anything and pulled the door open anyway.

"Hello?"

Leon immediately headed inside past him, abandoning Krauser on the doorstep.

“Hey,” his friend managed. His face was a little scratched up and he had one arm in a sling, but at least he was in one piece. “Thanks for the ride,” he told Krauser shortly, reaching to close the door before the big blond could protest.

Chris caught the door before it could slam in the man's face, shooting him an apologetic look.

"Thanks for finding him," he told Krauser quietly. "Was there actually a bear, or...?"

“Yeah,” Krauser said, popping the collar up higher on his coat. The sun had barely come up and there was a definite chill in the air outside. He glanced around Chris and shrugged a shoulder. “I'm sure Leon'll tell you all about it. Bye.” With that, the blond headed off down the steps and across the lawn. He seemed more than a little grumpy.

Chris couldn't really blame him. From the sound of it, Leon started this whole thing by kissing the man, and then wound up running away and causing a fiasco. Unable to come up with anything to add that wouldn't sound awkward, the brunette waved at Krauser and closed the door. He promptly turned around and came over to look at Leon worriedly. 

"...Want some coffee? You're probably cold."

“Just kill me,” The blond groaned, falling stiffly onto the couch. He cringed at the motion and deflated. “Yeah. Coffee sounds great.”

Birkin came back into the living room with all three kids in tow. He looked relieved that it was just the beat up blond arriving.

"You're also just in time for breakfast," Chris informed Leon, stepping toward the kitchen door. He smiled and waved for the kids and Bill to follow him. "Good morning, you two."

“Dad, can I have blueberry tea too?” Piers managed to say around a yawn. He hurried clumsily over to try and hug Chris's leg. “Sherry's having some.”

“Can you bring breakfast to me?” Leon called after them.

Chris picked Piers up and leaned him against his chest, heading into the kitchen. 

"Yeah, I'll make you some too. Leon, it's almost done baking. Back in a minute with coffee," he promised.

The kitchen smelled delicious thanks to the bake in the oven. Sherry's tea sat brewing on the table next to Bill's coffee mug. He sat Piers on a chair at the table and went to get mugs for him and Jake. The little redhead was still half-asleep, as usual in the morning it seemed, and crawled into a chair without a word.

“Did uncle Leon fall out of a tree too?” The little brunette asked worriedly.

Birkin lifted Sherry into her seat and then joined Chris by the counter.

“Chris, can I talk to you?” He asked quietly.

"Quietly," Chris replied, glancing at him as he filled the boys' tea mugs and stuck them into the microwave. Turning to the blond, he reached for another mug for Leon, adding, "Go ahead."

“Would it be okay if Sherry stayed here for a few days?” Birkin whispered to him. “I know it's a lot to ask,” he added quickly. “But there are some people – uh – that I need to visit and she can't come along. I didn't want to ask, but my wife is out of town.”

"She is?" Chris frowned at him. "Are these people the reason you two stayed over last night?"

“It doesn't matter—” Birkin began, but he looked over at Sherry, eyebrows pinching ever so slightly. He looked up at Chris and nodded. “Yes. I just need a few days.”

Chris placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Of course she can stay. And if these 'people' are just your wife, then she can still stay. I'm sure Al will agree."

The thin blond shrank away from Chris's touch. 

“Anne? No. These people are a lot worse then her – never mind,” Birkin said, shaking his head quickly. He went back over to his daughter. “I have to go, Sherry. Uncle Chris said that you can stay with them for awhile. Okay?”

But the little girl's eyes widened in fear and she grabbed her dad's arm.

“Daddy, don't go to work—”

“Shh, shh,” Birkin said, rubbing her back. “I'll be fine.”

“No! They'll come back!” Sherry cried. Piers looked her way, alarmed.

“Who?” The little brunette asked, looking at Chris with big eyes. “Who'll come back?”

“Nobody,” Bill told him quickly. “Stop it, Sherry,” he told his daughter sternly. “I have work. It's very important.” He gave her a hug and patted her back, expression softening. “It's okay. Let's not talk about them anymore, okay?”

Sherry shook her head quickly but Birkin kissed her forehead.

“Just work on that restaurant.” He gave Sherry a smile and ruffled her hair. “I'll be back soon.” He straightened and turned back to Chris. “Tell Al not to work for a few days. I'll handle this.”

Chris sighed, but nodded. 

"Look, if you're in some kind of trouble..." He trailed off, giving the man a meaningful look instead. He had a bad feeling this had to do with crossing lines that shouldn't be crossed.

“I can fix it. I just need a little time,” Birkin said quietly, already heading out of the kitchen. Sherry hopped down from her chair and ran after him. She stopped abruptly and the front door was heard closing.

Piers climbed down and followed after her.

“Sherry?”

Chris brought Leon's coffee out and sat it on the coffee table, looking over at the little girl by the door. Bill had certainly been in a hurry.

"Sherry, you know who he's going to go talk to?" He asked, turning to her.

“Aw,” Leon said glumly, sitting forward on the couch and holding out a hand to Sherry. “What's the matter, kiddo?” The tiny girl dashed over and latched onto Leon's neck, sobbing loudly. He scooped her up and settled back on the couch, looking up at Chris with concern. “What's going on? Wasn't that her dad leaving?”

"She's staying here for a few days," Chris explained, frowning. "Her dad has some unhappy folks to talk to at work. I don't like the whole thing — I'm gonna talk to Al about it."

Leon nodded, hugging the little girl close. Piers came over and crawled up onto the couch beside them too. He leaned on Leon's arm and patted Sherry's head with a tiny hand, gray eyes tearful.

Chris was about to say more when there was a beeping from the kitchen. Little Jake poked his head around the corner of the door and scowled.

"The stove's beepin', Dad." 

Oh, right. Breakfast timer. 

"I'll be right back," Chris told Leon. He was glad the blond was there. The kids knew him from the beach, and seemed fond of him. Anything to distract Sherry from her father's troubles was probably for the best.  


* * *

  
The storm was in full swing outside, rain rolling off of the eaves of the tiny building. Inside, the silence was smothering them all. 

It had happened so fast. 

Piers had bitten Sherry. 

The scream had snapped the little brunette out of whatever state of mind the virus had pulled him into, and he'd gotten himself away from her before Jake even had to, but the damage was done. The bite on Sherry's arm had already healed away, but the C-virus was still in her blood — and the baby's. 

Jake knew that they had moments — maybe just seconds — before everything fell apart right in front of him. Piers wasn't trying to bite anyone a second time, so Jake sat on the floor next to Sherry and held her hand tightly, at a loss for what to say. Nothing would help. Even if something would, there was no time...

The blond was crying and squeezing his hand tightly, her other arm hugged tightly around her stomach.

“It's not your fault – either of you. I don't blame you,” she managed, glancing across the room to Piers and then back to Jake quickly. “Take care of each other. I w-won't forgive you if you fight!” 

Piers didn't reply. He had retreated into a corner of the room and was holding his head in his hands – sobbing and mumbling under his breath. It wasn't clear if he was entirely back to normal, but it didn't matter.

Sherry hugged up against Jake, taking a deep breath.

“Don't hesitate,” she whispered to him, pressing a kiss to his lips and staring up at him with those big blue eyes. “I w-won't.”

Jake cupped her face in his hand, shaking his head. Here he'd only been thinking of losing her and the baby. Of course he had to end whatever they turned into, too. What kind of last memory was that? What was he going to do without her?

"Forget that. Don't, just — don't." He pulled her closer, pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I...I love you. So damn much. You, and that kid." 

He wanted to say more, but didn't know what else to say. Sorry? Sorry wouldn't help. It was done, she was already gone.

“I love you too,” the little blond whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Piers.” She said suddenly, sitting her head up. “Come here.”

Again, there was no reply from the other man. Sherry didn't call to him again. She turned in Jake's arms to lean back against him, resting her head against his chin.

They sat there in silence, the seconds passing like hours. Sherry seemed so calm in his arms. Her breathing was deep and slow. 

Peaceful.

If not for the thunder, it would have been easy to lose all track of time. Piers had even gone silent. Was he okay? He never had gotten the shot that he was supposed to have. Jake wanted to check on him, but he was afraid to move. 

It would be any moment now — Sherry would be gone. The steady breathing made no sense, though. J'avo wheezed — Piers had sounded terrible when the virus overtook him. Jake looked down at his girlfriend, running his fingers through her blond hair. 

"Sherry...?" He whispered. Maybe it was different this time. Maybe she wasn't even there anymore.

“Hm?” The blond said, turning her head to look up at him. She had tears running down her cheeks again, but she still seemed calm. 

Much as he tried to put on a brave face, Jake could feel his brows furrowing sadly.

"You're still here," he said a bit hoarsely, trying to smile for her.

“I am.” She nodded sadly, placing both her hands on her stomach. “I j-just want it to be over. For both of us.”

A hand suddenly grabbed Jake's shoulder. Piers leaned around him to hug Sherry tightly – pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I love you too,” he said.

“I know.” Sherry hugged him back, returning his kiss.

Piers closed his eyes. The dark patches of skin were back. They looked rough, and when Piers opened his eyes to look at Jake, one of them was white. He moved closer and leaned against Jake too, breathing sharply.

“I'm so s-sorry.”

Jake turned halfway and wrapped an arm around the brunette's waist, hugging him tightly. 

"Not your fault. You're...just sick." Sherry was still breathing just fine. It seemed like it had been a lot longer than any C-virus infection he'd ever seen. Maybe that was wishful thinking. Maybe the G-virus in her blood was just slowing it down. "Does it hurt?" He looked at Piers sadly. His face was back to how it had looked when Jake first brought him back from that lab.

Piers shook his head, burying his face against Jake's neck. 

“I'll do it – it was my fault. I don't w-want you to live with it. Please,” he managed raggedly, sitting back to look up at Jake with mismatched eyes.

Jake looked at him, then Sherry. He shook his head. 

"I-I have to do it." It seemed like the only way for things to go. She'd practically asked him to. He wouldn't be able to stand by and watch anybody attack Sherry, anyway...even if it wasn't Sherry anymore.

“Why is it taking so long?” Sherry sobbed, covering her face with her hands. Piers rubbed her back gently.

“I'm sorry – we just...sorry,” he told her quietly. “We're not going anywhere.” He dried his eyes with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. 

Sherry leaned back against Jake again, keeping one arm around him and one around Piers. She looked between them slowly, taking deep breaths.

Jake hugged them both, taking a deep breath as well. At least she wasn't in any pain. At least they were all together. At least they got to actually say goodbye. His mother had died while he was away working. Thinking about her really wasn't making this any easier.

"Anything we can do? Anything," he told Sherry, wishing it wasn't so obvious that there was a lump in his throat. At least once it happened, it would be over for her, even if it wasn't for them. 

“Well,” Sherry started shakily, “You guys could just leave me here. Then you wouldn't have to k-kill me,” she said sadly, patting Piers's back. “I don't want you to remember me like that – either of you!”

“We can't just leave you here to rot,” Piers protested.

“I won't be here,” the blond said softly, closing her eyes.

Piers frowned at that.

"No," Jake said flatly. "I'll never leave you. I promised." He looked at Piers, remembering when he'd said as much. "And something's up. It's taking too long. Maybe...a bite doesn't make you turn?" 

It made no sense — there were virus cells in a bite and he knew it — but the delay also made no sense. C-virus was made to inject or puff into the air in a cloud. J'avo usually wanted to shoot you, not bite you.

Both of them turned to look at him. Piers spoke first.

“But all those people in China...”

Sherry ran a hand over her forearm where the gruesome bite had been only minutes ago.

“Jake's right though – I should have turned by now.”

Jake looked at her arm, struggling to keep his expression neutral. He had to see this through before he could lose his cool — Piers needed his shot, and Sherry and the baby... If they were going to turn into anything, he had to stop it. Kill them. He had to hold it together.

Was there a chance that Sherry and the baby were okay, though? He knew he shouldn't let himself hope so. A virus in the bloodstream was a virus in the bloodstream, whether it was injected or introduced with a bite. Piers was right, the people in China who got bitten by zombies had turned into zombies, too. The C-virus Piers had was different, though — Wesker had said it was enhanced.

“Maybe because Piers doesn't have the r-regular C-virus...” The words came out sounding thick; he cleared his throat and hugged both of them a little tighter. “A-and you're not exactly normal, either. Between your superpowers and my antibodies, the baby's definitely not—”

He stopped short, looking down at Sherry's stomach. 

The antibodies. If the baby had inherited his special blood type, it was immune to the C-virus. Babies and mothers shared blood during pregnancy, so…

“Super kid’s got my antibodies,” Jake realized aloud, stunned. “And you’re borrowing ‘em.”


	42. Martial Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks! It's been over a year since we last had a chapter to post for you, but I'm super excited and happy to announce that Couyfish and I are working on The Dreamscape again. Many of you have left us comments letting us know that you still love the story and would read more, and we want to thank you guys for enjoying this story that much. It's in large part thanks to you all that we're actively working on the fic again, and we intend to finish it this time. There's quite a bit of plot to play out first, though. 
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy the first new chapter to be written for this fic in years. Comments and kudos are appreciated and fuel the writing machine — thank you for being our readers! ♥

“A motel,” Wesker said quietly, stopping under the shelter of the tree line. The motel wasn’t too big from the looks of it. There were several busted up cars in the parking lot along with rotted skeletons. He shifted his grip on Rebecca’s legs. 

After buzzing around in the forest for at least an hour, it felt strange to suddenly come to a stop again. The blond seemed to be feeling better, though he didn’t comment on it. In fact, he hadn’t said anything on the way there. 

“We should find shelter for the night,” he continued as he stepped out from under the trees into the pouring rain again. The icy drops instantly sank through the back of Rebecca’s shirt. 

Shivering, she nodded quickly even though he couldn't see it.

"We n-need to be careful about zombies in there," she chattered out, "But that looks like a 5-s-star place right now." It sure beat the tree they'd sat under before.

Wesker splashed his way across the parking lot. He didn’t dash for once, instead scanning over the area.  
Something moved off to the left. It was low to the ground and darted off under the parked cars. An animal for sure. Wesker paid it no attention. 

He stepped up to one of the many doors along the motel and gave it a firm kick just above the doorknob. It made a loud snap as the lock broke free. The interior was dark.

Rebecca patted the blond's shoulder a bit nervously.

"C-Captain Wesker, I'm still here, remember? Please sit me down." She was afraid he'd try to walk through the doorway with her on his back if she didn't say something.

Wesker seemed a lot more sharp and aware now than he had when he first arrived at her tree perch, but Rebecca hadn't forgotten the fever and, oh, DYING that had ailed him in the past week. He might not be all there, even if he was good at faking it.

“We should get inside. In case something is nearby.” Wesker dropped down to one knee to let her down. He pushed the door open further and stepped inside into the darkness. After a moment, he returned to nod at her. “It’s clear.” 

Adjusting her backpack's straps, Rebecca moved quickly inside after him.

The pounding of the rain immediately dulled down as she moved through the doorway, and it muffled even more once the brunette pushed the door shut behind them.

It was very dark inside. Wesker's red eyes smoldered like living things, though, impossible to miss.

"Let's find a room with two beds," Rebecca whispered to him. It was frustrating how the air feeling warmer in here actually made her shivering worse. Her fingers and toes were clumsy from the cold rain, and she took tiny steps to keep from stumbling over anything.

“That is not necessary.” Wesker moved a dresser in front of the door to secure it, then he closed the blinds — cutting off the bit of light that had made it through. Those glowing red orbs turned Rebecca’s way. “I am not sleeping.” 

Rebecca sighed a little, but didn't try to argue with him about it. It should've been easy to remember the man was superhuman with his eyes glowing at her in the dark, but her medic training was in auto-pilot when she was this tired. Training just focused on the hours — how many hours since somebody slept, how many hours since they ate or drank.

How many hours out in the weather. She shuffled after Wesker, teeth chattering.

"F-f-fine, but at least ch-change into dry clothes," she insisted.

“Again, not necessary,” Wesker said as he turned away, eyes disappearing into the blackness around them. He sounded a little annoyed by the suggestion. 

A hand suddenly landed on Rebecca’s shoulder. 

She actually flinched, gasping and jumping away from it. Was it Wesker? His voice hadn't been coming from that direction!

Wesker turned back to her, stepping closer and gripping her shoulder tighter. 

“…It’s me,” he said hesitantly. Guiding her along, he took her hand and placed it down on top of what must have been the bed in the room. “I’m going to check for a light. Wait here. Please.” 

"Okay," Rebecca mumbled. She wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed that she had so much experience fighting walking corpses and her reaction was still to flinch, or grateful Wesker wasn't being disdainful about it. It was a little of both. She was exhausted, and cold, and her wrist was throbbing pretty bad now that she stopped to notice it.

Turning, she slowly sat down on the side of the bed and unslung the backpack, placing it beside her. She refused to feel sorry for herself when she had a roof over her head and a person to talk to. The rain was absolutely pouring down outside. Sherry was still out there in this weather. Rebecca was worried about her and the baby.

After a few minutes of Wesker rustling around in the dark, he came back over. He flicked on a lighter, drenching the room in eerie warm light. Wesker looked far less creepy in this lighting. The blond looked exhausted. His skin was pale and deep dark lines ran under his eyes. He offered the lighter to her. 

“Why have a lighter without candles? It’s senseless.” 

The light made Rebecca notice how her hair was hanging over her eyes and dripping down her face. She wiped it aside across her forehead, holding her hands up to the tiny flame like they might actually get warm that way.

Feeling foolish, she turned and unzipped the backpack, rummaging in it for the first aid kit. One tiny metal surgical tray, a little petroleum jelly, a couple cottonballs...

Holding the tray up to Wesker, she chattered, "L-l-light this, please."

Wesker leaned in and lit it. The little blob of cotton and jelly crackled, then burned steadily. The blond chuckled. Which was only mildly creepy. 

“Clever.” He tucked the lighter into the back pocket of his pants and took the tiny burning tray. He sat it on the bed stand under the motel’s original lamp. Wesker looked the room over more critically. “You need to dry your clothes. Please undress.” 

Rebecca was already halfway through peeling off her sopping hoodie, but hearing it as a request made her pause. She waved a hand at the tall man. 

"Please turn around," she replied pointedly.

With a stunning amount of humanity, Wesker rolled his eyes as he turned. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. 

“You told me that you haven’t seen anyone else. How bad was the attack? Did you see anyone escape?” 

"I-it was awful. Zombies as f-far as you could see up or — or down the road." Rebecca cringed at the chill air the second her clothes were out of the way. Air on wet skin was somehow worse than wet clothes on wet skin. She sat on the bed, tugging off her boots and the legs of her pants one by one.

"And th-those junkies who were after m-m-me," she continued, dragging the sheet off of the bed and wrapping it around herself, "They had m-machine guns and RPGs, but..."

She trailed off and sighed, securing the bedsheet around herself like a very large bath towel. It was far from warm, so she reached for the comforter next, draping it over her bare shoulders.

Wesker turned and gathered her clothes up. He went and hung them in the closet carefully before returning to her. 

“I can’t remember,” he said, shaking his head. His expression softened suddenly. “Miles.” 

Rebecca watched him, huddling in the comforter. She hadn't said she was done changing; he must have heard the rustling of the blankets stop or something.

"Miles?" She asked. Was he talking about a distance, a person...?

Wesker’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. 

“I was — it’s unimportant. Get some rest. I’ll stand watch. We’ll follow the road in the morning. The lab is up a small dirt road, but I am not certain where that road is. If the others survived, they’ll do the same.” 

Rebecca crawled onto the bed she'd just stolen the sheets and comforter from, gratefully resting her head on the pillow. The rain was almost musical on the roof, and sleep was trying to drag her down already.

"The fight on the road," she said tiredly. "Last I saw, the zombies were winning."

She thought of Sherry and Piers out in the storm, and felt guilty for being in a soft, warm bed. Her wrist throbbed sluggishly.

If Wesker replied to her comment, she fell asleep before she could hear it.  


* * *

  
"So...Krauser said there was actually a bear," Chris prompted Leon, taking a sip of his coffee.

It had taken a few minutes for Sherry to calm down after her father left, but she and Piers were now sitting nicely together in the kitchen and drinking their tea. Jake was even sitting with them without making a fuss, although he kept sneaking glances at Chris like there was something secret going down. Who knew what they were talking about.

And who knew what Birkin was actually up to, although it was obvious it was something shady. Chris had resolved to talk to Al about it when he woke up, and until then he was trying to focus on Leon to take his mind off of Umbrella.

"Did the bear do that?" He added, gesturing to Leon's arm in its sling.

Leon slid further down against the back of the couch and sighed. 

“No. I did that — when I was running and tripped over a branch. Plus side, I scared the daylights out of the bear. It ran off after all the screaming.” 

Chris tried not to smile at the mental image, he really did. Really, it was more the imagined scream that did it. He chuckled softly into his coffee, taking another sip. The real Leon would think a bear was small potatoes.

"What happened to just getting info about Ada?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh god.” The blond averted his eyes down into his own coffee cup. He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. You got in my head or something. I was just trying to hang out and have some guy time. I started feeling bad for leading him on. Then we…started talking about deeper stuff and…” He trailed off into a mumble. Frowning, Leon took a swig from his coffee. “Does this make me gay? ‘Cause I don’t think I’m gay.” 

“What’s gay?” Piers interrupted, standing at the end of the couch with a cup of blueberry tea clasped in both hands. 

"Gay means you love boys," Chris told the kid. "Like me and Daddy love each other." He smiled. "Why don't you and Jake and Sherry go wash your hands? I think breakfast is cooled down enough to eat now."

The breakfast bake had...well, the timer had gone on beeping for perhaps longer than it should have. It was what one would call 'well-done.' Not burned, just...dark and crispy. Around the edges. And across the top. And probably on the entire bottom…

“Uncle Leon, do you have a husband?” Piers asked, sitting his tea on the coffee table. 

Leon laughed nervously and shooed the kid away with a hand. 

“Go wash your hands.” 

With a sweet smile, Piers darted off to the kitchen to tell the others. 

Watching him go, Leon turned back to Chris. 

“I didn’t expect him to be so cool, okay? I had a weak moment. Not gay — still looking for Ada.” 

Chris sat his coffee on the table, going to pull the breakfast bake out of the fridge — which is what he'd resorted to to try and cool it from its molten state to some edible temperature.

"You know, bisexuals aren't just a myth," he said mildly. "You COULD just swing both ways." Sitting the pan on the counter, he pulled out a spatula and gave the breakfast bake an experimental stab. The cheese resisted like a force field.

Frowning, Chris pulled a knife from the drawer, giving that a try instead.

"...So, DID you get any info about Ada out of all of this?"

“No,” Leon pouted. “We were too busy talking about spearfishing and…making out.” He sat a hand over his face and groaned through his teeth. “He said something about having another party with ‘everyone invited.’ So that’s my best bet. If I dare to show up.” 

“Dad, can I have cereal?” Piers asked, hugging onto Chris’s leg. 

Chris carefully sat the knife on the counter before reaching to ruffle the kid's hair. Piers...he could almost forget the horrible situation the real Piers was in, faced with this adorable little version of him with his big grey eyes.

"You know, if you'd rather eat cereal, that's okay," he agreed. "Do Sherry and Jake want cereal, too? We have Rainbow Loops and Lucky Baubles, with the little marshmallows."

He was pretty sure he must be to blame for the cereal — Al didn't seem likely to feed the family something that took no cooking.

“Baubles!” Piers cheered, throwing his arms up over his head. He ran over and dragged Sherry from her seat. “Sherry! Dad said we can have cereal!” 

The blond girl looked up at Chris, eyes still sad. She hugged Pier’s arm closer. 

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbled. 

“But they’re Baubles!” Leon chimed in, leaning down to smile at her. “Don’t you like marshmallows?” 

Slowly, Sherry shook her head. 

"How about rainbows?" Chris asked, holding up the box of Rainbow Loops. "There's no marshmallows in this one, but it's my favorite."

The little blond girl stared at the cereal for a long time then nodded. 

“Where’s uncle Al?” Sherry asked as she and Piers climbed back into their seats. 

“Daddy’s sleeping. He’s sick,” Piers explained. 

"He's resting up so he'll get better," Chris explained, placing bowls out on the table for the kids. He looked over at Leon. "You want Loops or Baubles, Leon?"

He was pretty sure Al was going to be exasperated that he'd managed to burn breakfast with an alarm set and everything.

The light sound of the cereal hitting the bottom of the bowl was interrupted by the oven's alarm going off again. What was it now? Was he actually going to demonstrate how to burn cereal?

The alarm sounded different, though.

Chris blinked and abruptly it was dark, and he had different aches and pains than before, and he was crammed into a bed with somebody pressed up against his side.

Motel, he realized, disoriented. Real life.

So why hadn't the beeping stopped?

“What the hell is that?” Leon groaned, lifting his head off of the musty motel pillow. He squinted and looked around, then sat up sharply. “Oww damn,” he growled, grabbing his side gingerly. 

“It’s your radio!” Claire held the radio up to Leon. “Answer it!” 

Leon took it and jammed the button down. 

“Hunnigan?” 

"Leon!" Hunnigan's voice crackled a bit through the comm, but it sounded to Chris like she was trying to speak quietly. "Did you make it to the hotel?"

“Yes! We made it. It’s a motel, actually — but that’s not important. It’s good to hear your voice. How’s it going?”

Chris slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He and Claire and Leon had all piled into the motel room's double bed last night for warmth and slept like the dead. Well, more peacefully, actually. Now it felt like he hadn't slept at all, though.

"I'm making my way toward your location, but it's slow going since my truck ran out of gas," Hunnigan replied softly. "I'm on foot now, and in fact I'm holed up somewhere until there are less dead milling around outside. Leon, I need to brief you on the situation with HQ."

Right, she'd mentioned HQ being compromised during their last conversation. Chris listened carefully.

“Brief me,” Leon said shortly, crawling painfully over Chris’s legs to get off of the bed.

There came a sigh through the crackly comm.

"I wish I could say it was BOWs, but HQ is compromised by the military. Martial law is in effect," Hunnigan said shortly. "Most of the United States are infested with BOWs at this point, but you already knew that part. But Leon, they're drafting anybody with BOW experience to exterminate the threat, and even though you're listed as MIA, they knew I've been in touch."

“Great,” Leon sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the bed. “Even if they wanted my help, I’m kind of a mess right now. Wait, why are you running from them? Are you okay?” 

"I'm not injured," she replied wearily, "Unless sore feet count. They wanted me to send a transmission and lure you out, but your comm happened to be down when they tried to force that. I made it sound very suspicious and unlike me just in case, though."

She sighed again. 

"The BSAA and the military are working in tandem." 

Chris frowned at that. Great, BSAA was involved, meaning BSAA might cross paths with them?

"Them catching me or you is the least of our worries," Hunnigan continued. "I heard enough while I was still in HQ — they're planning strikes on the most BOW-infested areas. Bomb strikes."

Leon glanced at Chris. 

“Bomb strikes. Ooh boy. We’re heading towards a lab, but I don’t wanna discuss exact locations on the radio. I, uh. I’ll come and meet you. Where are you at?” 

He slowly made his way over to peek out the motel window. 

"Understood. On foot we'll take days to reach each other, but I have an idea of where you are — I'll try to get another vehicle and come to you," Hunnigan said, staying vague about her own location. "Avoid cities. Avoid anywhere that has a lot of BOWs or zombies. They were talking about starting these strikes as soon as possible."

Chris climbed out of bed and went to look out the window. Was it light out yet?

The weather was as dreary as ever outside, but the sky was starting to lighten. 

“Roger. Take care of yourself, Hunnigan. We don’t plan on going through anymore populated areas. Give me a call if you run into trouble. Okay?” 

"I will. Be careful, Leon. Hunnigan out." The comm crackled and fell silent behind Chris. He turned and gave Leon a pensive look.

"BSAA AND the military."

“And we’re heading to an Umbrella lab.” Leon shoved the radio away and leaned beside the window. “We need a working car.”  


* * *

  
Jake rummaged through the cabinets behind the small desk in the corner. Behind him, the little fire Piers had started crackled cheerily, flickering. They had to keep the door open a crack to let the smoke out, and it was still windy out there — not to mention dumping rain. 

At least there was plenty to burn. Once the three of them had a few minutes to calm down, they’d realized the higher shelves were lined with little wooden figurines of an ape-man like the head-shaped light from outside. Hand-carved, detailed, and the lacquer made them light up nice, too.

Calming down wasn’t all good, either — Jake had had enough time for it to sink in, how close he’d come to losing everything. That scared the hell out of him.

Piers and Sherry were cuddled up by the fire. The sniper had an arm over Sherry’s shoulders as they spoke softly back and forth. They were both pretty shaken up. 

“…William’s an okay name, but I don’t exactly have great memories of my dad.” 

“Yeah,” Piers chuckled dryly. “I guess that’s true.” 

They sure weren’t going to name Super Kid after Jake’s father, Jake thought darkly, turning from the cabinets to the desk. There had to be more than souvenirs in this place. Somebody worked here, somebody probably bored and unsupervised most of the time.

“Bingo,” he said softly, pulling out one of the drawers of the desk. Whoever worked here had a sweet tooth — there was a big bag of gummi bears in the second drawer down. Not food, but it was better than nothing. None of them had eaten in awhile. 

“Hey…” Stepping back over by the fire, Jake knelt beside Sherry and offered her and Piers the bag. “Look, there’s something here besides paper.”

“Ooh!” Sherry cheered. She took the bag of gummies and gave Jake a quick hug. “Thanks babe.” 

Piers smiled at the exchange, but didn’t join in. He leaned back against the shelf full of brochures behind him and looked around the kiosk slowly. One of his eyes was still pale yellow. 

“Dig in, I’ll find us some real food tomorrow,” Jake promised, kissing the top of Sherry’s head. He managed a smile back, but it was difficult. She deserved so much better than this. Being dragged through the weather and wounded, thinking she and their baby were going to turn into monsters, all of that had to affect her, but now that the threat had passed she was doing the sunshine thing. He wished he could give her at least a bed to sleep in, but they were about to spend the night curled up on the floor.

Piers’ distance didn’t slip past Jake’s notice, either. He stepped around the fire to stand beside the brunette next, looking down into the flames. 

“Piers.” He said it really softly, but there wasn’t really any hiding conversations from each other in this little space. 

Piers’ mismatched gaze looked his way. The warm light from the fire almost hid the fact that one of his eyes was his natural gray.

“Yeah?”

Jake thought about pointing out the mismatched eyes. He thought of the shot in the syringe in his pocket that Piers had never gotten when the timer had rang over an hour ago. Mostly he was looking at the exhaustion in the sniper’s face, and wondering how long they’d have without Wesker before Piers started to get sicker again. He’d been dragged through so much, and it wasn’t his fault. Were they fighting and fighting just to lose him anyway? 

Jake could feel his brows pinching at the thought, and there was probably sadness written on his face. He pushed all of those thoughts aside and offered his arms.

“C’mere.”

Piers climbed to his feet and stepped into Jake’s arms, hugging him in return. He propped his head against the teller man’s shoulder.

“…I’m sorry.”

Jake wrapped him in both arms and held him close, wishing he could undo what had happened earlier. It really wasn’t Piers’ fault. He’d said it himself, he loved Sherry — he didn’t want to hurt her. And it was Jake who was responsible for giving him his shots on time.

“Me too,” the redhead murmured finally, leaning his head against Piers’ hair. “I got sidetracked by Wesker, I should’ve taken better care of both of you. But we’re gonna be okay.” He had the tiny, nagging feeling that Piers would try to leave them in the night, for their own safety. He wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“I know.” Piers leaned back in his arms, looking at him nose to nose. His J’avo eye was unsettling up close, but it was hard not to love the smile Piers was wearing. His thumbs played at the base of Jake’s neck as he nodded. “We’re gonna be okay.” He sat up on his toes and kissed Jake slowly. 

The kiss ended as soon as Sherry giggled. She was looking up at them and beaming. 

“Awwww.” 

Piers blushed and ducked out of Jake’s arms, joining Sherry by the fire again. 

“Alright, alright. Eat your gummies.”

Face hot, Jake stepped over to sit down on the other side of the little blond, slipping an arm around her waist. God damn it, now was not the time to have a lump in his throat. He just wanted to give them both so much better than this, and Piers wasn’t going to try to leave, and nobody was gonna die — not right now, anyway.

“How’s everybody feeling?” He asked them both, clearing his throat. “Besides hungry and cold and tired,” he added dryly, trying to lighten up. It was better not to think about losing anyone right now.

“Besides all those? Hm.” Sherry stuck a gummi in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Pregnant?” 

“Psh. Yeah, me too. Man. I’ve got aches all over the place. My back is KILLING me,” Piers joked. Sherry exchanged a smile with him. 

“Hey, what about Scott? Naming the baby Leon is a bit much, but maybe his middle name?” 

“Scott?” Piers said. He frowned and shrugged. “Better than William or Albert I guess. Al could be okay. Maybe. I don’t know.” He looked back at her. “What if it’s a girl?” 

“Claire, of course!” The little blond said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. She and Piers both chuckled. They seemed to be making an effort to be chipper. 

“Not Annette?” 

“Oh god no!” 

“Wow, don't I get any say in what to name Super Kid?” Jake asked Sherry, raising an eyebrow. He had been about to suggest Christopher, but in light of the kid’s grandfather and Redfield hooking up, that was just plain weird. Wesker was out there somewhere in the night, still out of his mind, probably. Maybe thinking he was a scared little kid again. Jesus, things had really been a shitshow. 

The fire gave a pop, drawing his attention back to the present. Right, don’t think about losing people. The fact that losing Wesker actually bothered him, and not just because of the man’s usefulness in helping Piers, really caught Jake by surprise. Maybe he was still feeling sympathetic for the child Wesker seemed to be regressing to for a bit, there. Maybe because Jake was about to be a dad. That had to be it.

“Hey. It’s a long way off.” Sherry patted Jake’s cheek nicely. “Maybe by the time the baby’s born — we’ll all LOVE the name Albert!” 

“Gee, why don’t we just go with Wesker? Might as well give the kid a god complex while we can.” Piers snickered. 

Sherry made a face at him and then cuddled up to Jake’s chest. She was still shivering a bit as she settled in there. The blond closed her eyes. 

“Maybe tomorrow we can find some bugs. Those are good protein.” 

Even though she couldn’t see it with her back turned, Piers wrinkled his nose.

Jake held Sherry and trailed a hand down her back slowly. There had to be a better place somewhere around here — somewhere they could get dry clothes, real food, maybe even sleep in a bed. He actually missed their cramped, metal-walled bedroom in the underwater base. It was the longest he’d lived anywhere with Sherry, and that had sort of made it home.

“There’s got to be a gas station or mini mart somewhere with canned stuff, or protein bars or something,” he assure Piers. 

They weren't in the absolute middle of nowhere, or who would come to this tourist shack?

“Well, the map said we’re at a campground. Maybe somebody got eaten and left their camp behind?” 

“That’s grim,” Sherry murmured, her blue eyes fluttering back open. “But that’s a good point. We should at least look around for cars.” 

“It’d make the trip a lot shorter,” Piers chimed in. 

“We crossed a road to get here, too — gotta lead somewhere,” Jake agreed, rubbing Sherry’s back again slowly. “If it would stop downpouring out there, maybe we could see something.” He paused to shove thoughts of Wesker out in the weather aside yet again. Why the hell did he even care? “It’d be stupid to hope for a working radio, I guess.”

“Maybe up at the ranger station. If there IS one.” Piers got up and paced around to add another ape-man statue to the fire. He finished his loop around the fire and sat down on Jake’s other side. He leaned against the redhead’s shoulder. 

“They would…” Sherry trailed off as she sat up to look at Piers. “It’s probably a pretty far hike. I’m not sure we should waste that much time with Wesker still on the loose. Who knows where he wound up.” 

Piers frowned at that and nodded. 

“If he’s still off his rocker, we need to keep you away from him. Maybe you two should continue on to the lab. I could look around for him and meet up with you up the road.” 

“No way!” Sherry shook her head. She poked a finger in Piers’ direction. “You’re staying with us. No ifs or buts.” 

Piers’ eyebrows pinched together and he shook his head, eyes dropping to look at the fire. 

“I’m a danger to you too, Sherry. You and the baby.” 

Jake put an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder the same way he was rubbing Sherry’s back. 

“I’m pretty sure Super Kid’s the reason Sherry’s immune to you right now,” he reminded Piers. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, and that means you’re actually safer to be around than we thought before.” He sighed slowly. “That, and…you seem to be doing okay even though you missed your shot. I’ve still got it, if you want to take it, but maybe we should just count our blessings here.” Every time Piers was given one of these shots, there was a fever, bleeding…Jake hated the thought of making him that sick again.

“Yeah. Something clicked in place when I…when Sherry got bit. There’s like this hum in the back of my head, but I can sort of ignore it. Or tune in and out. I don’t know how to describe it. Can we save the shot for later? In case it gets worse?” Piers asked more softly, looking up at Jake with hope. He probably didn’t want to get sick either. 

“But didn’t Wesker say that you’d regress without it? Maybe you should take it. It might help you stay like this.” Sherry gestured to him. 

Jake hugged them both a little closer. He’d noticed it, too — the shock of hurting Sherry had seemed to snap Piers out of whatever feverish J’avo mental state he’d been in, and he hadn’t slipped back since. Jake had talked him down from episodes more than once now. There had to be a certain amount of mental control over this.

“The longer we can wait, the better — Wesker’s not exactly here to make more shots,” he said. “I’m got two left. Whatever you wanna do, Piers, we’re staying with you while you do it.” He knew Sherry would agree with that. They weren't going anywhere. Piers was stable right now, so it was really his decision whether to inject himself with anything.

Piers thought it over for a moment, then nodded. 

“I should take it. Who knows if we’ll run into Wesker or not on the way to the lab.” 

Sherry smiled and reached a hand around to take Piers’ hand. They laced fingers as Piers offered Jake his other arm. 

“We’ll find him.”

Jake held the brunette’s hand, nodding. 

“We’ll find him together.”


End file.
